IC-NRLF 


WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

SECOND  SERIES 


WISCONSIN  PLAYS 
FIRST  SERIES 

Containing: 

THE  NEIGHBORS 
by  ZONA  GALE 

IN  HOSPITAL 
by  THOMAS  H.  DICKINSON 

GLORY  OF  THE  MORNING 
by  WILLIAM  ELLERY  LEONARD 

Price  $1.25  net 


WISCONSIN    PLAYS 

SECOND    SERIES 


ORIGINAL  ONE-ACT  PLAYS  FROM  THE  REPERTORY  OF 

THE    WISCONSIN    DRAMATIC    SOCIETY 


S.  MARSHALL  ILSLEY 

LAURA  SHERRY 

HOWARD  MUMFORD  JONES 

THORNTON  OILMAN 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

BY  ZONA  GALE 


NEW  YORK  ::  B.  W.  HUEBSCH  :;  MCMXVIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY 
B.  W.  HUEBSCH 


PRINTED  IN  U.  S.  A. 


INTRODUCTION 

The  Wisconsin  Plays  are  written  by  Middle- 
West  men  and  women  and  produced  by  the  Wis 
consin  Players. 

The  Wisconsin  Players,  a  group  of  non-pro 
fessional  actors  under  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Laura 
Sherry,  are  now  in  their  seventh  season.  When 
they  are  at  home,  they  occupy  a  charming  old  Eng 
lish  basement  house  downtown  in  Milwaukee, 
called  the  Playhouse,  with  four  floors  for  activi 
ties.  In  the  basement  is  the  Playhouse  tea  room, 
decorated  in  the  new  manner  by  artists  among  the 
members  of  the  organisation.  On  the  main  floor 
is  the  workshop  theatre,  and  here,  in  addition  to 
the  plays  done  by  the  members  of  the  society,  have 
been  played  translations  from  the  French,  Ger 
man,  Russian,  Italian,  Swedish  and  Norwegian, 
with  English,  Irish  and  Scottish  plays.  Not  only 
are  the  plays  produced  by  members  of  the  society, 
but  the  stage  settings,  costumes  and  posters  are  de 
signed  and  executed  by  the  members.  Here, 


950879 


INTRODUCTION 

every  month  comes  some  one  from  outside  to  lec 
ture  on  the  present  moment  in  drama,  poetry, 
prose,  music  or  the  pictorial  arts.  On  the  second 
floor  is  the  Playhouse  reading  room,  a  large  room 
with  an  open  fire.  On  the  third  floor  is  the  ball 
room.  Weekly  dancing  classes  assemble  for  in 
struction  in  technic  and  direction  in  naturalistic 
work,  and  the  hall  is  always  open  for  rehearsal 
and  practice. 

In  order  not  to  neglect  the  possibilities  of  the 
larger  theatre,  the  society  makes  occasional  pro 
ductions  in  one  of  the  Milwaukee  theatres.  The 
last  production  was  "A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,"  given  with  new  interpretation  of  colour 
and  lighting  and  dancing,  with  ballets  which  were 
a  part  of  the  Dream,  and  interrupted  nothing. 
Another  of  the  notable  large  productions  was 
"The  Marriage  of  Sobeide,"  a  Persian  play  trans 
lated  from  the  German  by  one  of  the  members, 
and  produced  with  accessories  of  lighting  and 
hanging,  and  a  cyclorama,  but  with  almost  no 
properties.  The  best  plays  both  from  the  work 
shop  and  the  larger  theatre  are  taken  on  tour  to 
other  cities. 

The  players  reach  out  into  the  municipality 
and  the  state,  offering  a  place  where  the  precious 
talent  wasted  in  most  communities  may  at  least 


INTRODUCTION 

have  a  chance  of  expression  and  hearing.  The 
membership  is  open  to  all  interested  in  the  experi 
ment,  either  as  artists  or  as  members  of  the  au 
dience. 

In  fine,  the  Wisconsin  Players  are  working  sim 
ply  and  naturally  with  local  material.  Burlesque, 
the  insincere,  they  are  trying  to  eliminate.  Their 
hope  is  to  express  the  character,  the  quality  of 
their  people  and  their  people's  work — not  to  force 
them  and  their  work  to  established  methods.  Mr. 
Hiram  Kelly  Moderwell  wrote  of  them  in  the 
Boston  Transcript,  on  their  recent  New  York  en 
gagement  at  the  Neighborhood  Playhouse,  that 
"this  particular  band  of  seekers  has  discovered 
and  developed  a  really  fresh  and  original  talent 
among  its  writers,  for  the  observation  and  tran 
scription  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Middle 
Western  life.  More,  by  giving  the  freest  rein  to 
these  writers,  it  has  encouraged  them  to  work  with 
such  freedom  that  they  have  achieved  a  dramatic 
style  quite  their  own."  They  have  wanted  to 
accomplish  in  some  measure  that  which  Mr.  Ru 
dolph  Block  in  the  New  York  Tribune  said  that 
they  had  accomplished:  "Acting  sufficiently  un 
professional  to  achieve  the  illusion  of  life  which 
the  sharp  edges  of  the  trained  actor  are  successful 
in  keeping  at  arm's  length." 


INTRODUCTION 

All  these  hopes  are  still  formulating  among  the 
Players,  and  no  one  knows  better  than  they  how 
much  is  to  be  accomplished. 

ZONA  GALE. 

March,  1918. 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY 
INNOCENTS 

BY  S.  MARSHALL  ILSLEY 
PAGE  l 

ON  THE  PIER 

BY  LAURA  SHERRY 
PAGE  53 

THE  SHADOW 

BY  HOWARD  MUMFORD  JONES 
PAGE  83 

WE  LIVE  AGAIN 

BY  THORNTON  OILMAN 
PAGE  137 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS 

BY  S.  MARSHALL  ILSLEY 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

CORNELIA  MiLK,]tW°  maiden  ladies  who  have  seen  bet- 

ELECTA  MILK,     $     ter  days'     They  are  living  in  Mille^ 
j      Wis. 

MRS.  OBERLY,  the  blacksmith's  wife 
JENNIE,  her  daughter 

MRS.  OMAN,  formerly  of  Millet.     She  married  and  went 
to  live  in  the  city 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY 
INNOCENTS 

TIME  :     A  winter  afternoon  of  a  recent  year. 

SCENE:  A  little  old  fashioned  parlour,  neat  and 
comfortable  but  showing  age.  There  are  a  few 
pieces  of  old  mahogany  but  most  of  the  furni 
ture  is  plain  and  inexpensive.  There  is  a  small 
case  of  old  books.  A  door  to  the  right  leads  to 
the  street.  Another  door  to  the  left  and  back 
leads  to  the  kitchen. 

CORNELIA,  a  maiden  lady  past  forty,  simply 
dressed,  is  sitting  by  the  table  putting  fresh  lace 
on  a  black  silk  waist.  ELECTA,  her  sister,  a 
year  or  two  younger,  is  in  a  rocking  chair  darn 
ing  stockings.  MRS.  OBERLY,  the  blacksmith's 
wife,  is  on  the  sofa.  She  is  a  heavy,  middle 
aged  woman  and  wears  a  shawl  and  hat. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

[Rising  heavily.}     Well,  I  must  be  going  home 
along. 


6  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

[Her    needle    flying.]      Don't    hurry,     Mrs. 
Oberly,  do  sit  awhile. 

ELECTA 
Sister  and  I  don't  get  out  much  in  winter. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

I  just  stopped  in  to  say  good-bye. 

CORNELIA 

Oh  ...  we  forgot  to  tell  you  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

We've  about  decided  not  to  go. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

[Surprised.}     Not  going?     Do  tell! 

CORNELIA 

You  see,  it's  so  soon  after  Christmas. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

[Sitting  again}     For  land's  sake,  I  thought  it 
was  all  settled! 

ELECTA 
Not  settled,  we  are  never  sure  beforehand. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     7 

CORNELIA 

You  never  can  tell  what  may  happen. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

After  those  grand  invitations,  and  the  weather 
so  mild  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Yes,  we  never  shall  see  another  bishop  conse 
crated. 

ELECTA 

We  have  seen  four  come  and  go  in  this  diocese. 

CORNELIA 

But  this  man's  young,  and  he'll  outlast  us. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Well,  well,  I  am  surprised,  such  great  church 
ladies  as  you  be!  I  says  to  John,  I  says,  there 
wouldn't  be  no  Tiscopal  church  here  if  'twarn't 
for  them  Milk  sisters. 

CORNELIA 

Now,  Mrs.  Oberly  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

True  as  I'm  sittin'  here,  all  Millet  knows  it. 
I  warn't  born  Tiscopal,  but  seein'  as  it's  the  only 


8  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

church  here  I'll  do  my  share,  and  when  it  comes 
to  finding  delicate  ladies  like  you  be,  down  on 
your  hands  and  knees  scrubbin'  the  church  floor,  I 
says,  you'd  a  better  call  on  Joan  Oberly  first; 
scrubbin'  is  more  in  my  line. 

CORNELIA 

Sister,  do  you  hear  her? 

ELECTA 

But  you  don't  understand,  Mrs.  Oberly,  we 
wanted  to  do  it.  It  was  only  the  altar  steps. 

CORNELIA 

There  is  so  little  we  can  do. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Little !  Fixin'  that  tree  for  the  Sunday  School 
all  by  yourselves,  and  climbin'  on  that  rickety 
church  ladder !  I'm  thankful  neither  of  you  broke 
your  hip. 

ELECTA 

Don't  suggest  it :  as  if  every  time  sister  gets  up 
on  a  chair  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

It's  you  who  will  climb  on  chairs  to  reach  down 
the  jelly. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     9 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Excuse  me,  but  I  says  to  John,  I  says,  if  ever 
there  was  saints  on  earth  the  Milk  sisters  are 
them. 

ELECTA 

Now,  now,  now  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Not  saints ! 

MRS.    OBERLY 

I'd  like  to  know,  spending  all  your  money  on 
those  young  ones,  and  not  havin'  a  trip  to  town 
to  see  the  makin'  of  this  new  bishop4? 

ELECTA 
You  ask  your  husband  about  our  being  saints. 

CORNELIA 

I  guess  John  will  tell  you  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

[Rising.}     Well,  I  must  allow,  husband  did 
say.  .  .  .  There  I  won't  repeat  home  talk. 

CORNELIA 
Now,  Mrs.  Oberly ! 

ELECTA 

Exciting  our  curiosity.  .  .  . 


10  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Well,  he  did  say  as  how  he  knew  the  Milk  girls 
before  I  did.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Yes? 

ELECTA 

Well,  what  else  did  he  say4? 

MRS.    OBERLY 

It's  time  for  me  to  be  goin'  home  along. 

ELECTA 

Goodness,  if  I  don't  smell  that  sponge-cake! 
[She  rises  and  hurries  out. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

I  was  goin'  to  remark,  if  there  warn't  something 
in  the  oven. 

CORNELIA 

Just  like  Lecta,  she  always  forgets  her  oven.  If 
she  would  only  leave  sponge-cake  alone  when  eggs 
are  high.  I  never  say  anything,  for  with  her  deli 
cate  digestion  if  there  is  any  one  thing  she 
craves  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Next  to  currant  jelly  there  is  nothing  so  un- 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     11 

certain  as  sponge-cake,   and  a  sponge-cake  that 
don't  rise  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Oh  well,  the  cat  will  eat  it,  with  plenty  of 
cream. 

[ELECT A  returns. 

ELECTA 

Burnt  to  a  crisp! 

CORNELIA 

The  full  rule4? 

ELECTA 

A  dozen  eggs.  Oh,  if  there  only  were  a  man 
in  the  house  to  say  something ! 

CORNELIA 

My  dear,  before  company! 

ELECTA 

I  mean  it!     Of  all  the  .  .  .  mm  m  ...  oh! 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Just  what  John  said,  "Electa  Milk  had  the  old 
Nick  in  her  when  she  was  a  girl."  .  .  .  Excuse 
me,  I  forgot ! 

ELECTA 

Don't  apologise,  John  knows.  The  other  day 
when  I  went  into  his  shop  with  our  tongs  to  mend, 


12  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

and  overheard  some  .  .  .  well  pretty  strong  lan 
guage  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

He  was  that  mortified !  But,  he  said,  when  it 
comes  to  shoeing  a  colt  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Exactly!  I  told  him  there  were  times  when 
even  a  lady  would  be  glad  of  a  man's  tongue. 

CORNELIA 

Be  careful,  dear,  if  you  say  too  much  Mrs. 
Oberly  will  think  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Oh — that  burnt  cake —  Excuse  me  I  must 
open  the  kitchen  window.  [She  goes  out. 

CORNELIA 

[Calling  after  her.}  Do  be  careful  of  draughts 
with  your  throat.  [To  MRS.  OBERLY.]  Sister 
is  so  impulsive,  she  is  like  a  child.  I  have  to 
watch  her. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

John  and  I  was  saying  how  two  such  lovely 
ladies  as  you  be  ...  how  you  ever  missed  out 
with  the  boys? 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     13 

CORNELIA 

[Alarmed.]  Oh,  Mrs.  Oberly!  Somehow  we 
had  each  other  .  .  .  and  father. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Both  so  lively  like.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

My  sister  had  chances  enough,  she  was  much 
sought  after.  There  was  one  young  man  in  par 
ticular.  ...  he  wrote  beautiful  poetry  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

He  up  and  died  on  her4?  That  kind  usually 
does. 

CORNELIA 

[Vaguely.]  No  ...  no  ...  you'd  be  sur 
prised  if  I  told  you  who  it  was.  He's  president  of 
a  bank  in  Lakeport  now. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

You  don't  mean  .  .  .  ?  I  believe  it  was 
Charles  Oman. 

CORNELIA 

I  mentioned  no  names. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

His  folks  lived  near  here.  And  he  off  and  mar 
ried  another  girl.  That's  the  city  of  it. 


14  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

Please  never  mention  it,  Mrs.  Oberly. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Well,  I  must  say,  I'm  thankful  I  'hain't  got  to 
raise  my  children  in  the  city.  All  the  tempta 
tions  one  reads  about  in  the  paper.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 
Yes. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

As  bad  for  girls  as  boys.  Ladies  at  their  lunch 
parties  drinking  these  'ere  cocktails.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

So  they  say. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

And  a  smoking  cigarettes.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Dear,  dear  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

And  playin*  cards  for  money.  I  suppose  you 
seen  the  Sunday  paper? 

CORNELIA 

I  haven't  had  time  to  glance  at  a  paper  since  be 
fore  Christmas. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     15 

MRS.    OBERLY 

[Lowering  her  voice  discreetly.}  That  French 
lady  actor  coming  to  Lakeport.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

[With  sudden  interest.}  You  don't  mean 
Bernhardt*? 

MRS.    OBERLY 

That's  just  who.  In  plays  it  made  me  blush 
to  read  about. 

CORNELIA 

Aren't  you  mistaken,  the  paper  said  last  week 
she  was  coming  to  Chicago*? 

[She  begins  to  turn  over  the  papers  on  the 
table. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Yes,  but  she  was  to  come  to  Madison  first,  and 
the  theatre  burned,  so  she  is  goin'  to  Milwaukee 
to-morrow. 

CORNELIA 

Dear,  dear,  and  we  have  never  seen  her ! 

MRS.    OBERLY 

You  don't  mean  you'd  go ! 

>, 

CORNELIA 

No  danger,  we  never  shall  have  a  chance. 


16  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    OBERLY 

I  guess  if  you  ever  read  the  stories — "Camilly" 
and  "Lay  Toscay" — of  all  the  .  .  .  !  I  tell  you, 
I  got  rid  of  that  supplement  before  Mr.  Oberly 
or  the  children  got  a  hold  of  the  paper. 

CORNELIA 
Really? 

MRS.    OBERLY 

We  have  temptations  enough  in  this  country 
without  bringin'  in  more  from  a  foreign  land. 

CORNELIA 

I  can't  imagine  what  Electa  did  with  the  Sun 
day  paper,  it  usually  lies  here  until  we  read  it. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Well,  I  wouldn't  a  mentioned  the  subject,  but 
I  thought  you  might  like  to  burn  that  paper  if 
your  sister  hadn't  seen  it. 

[ELECTA   enters   on   the  last.     There  is  a 
meaningful  silence. 

CORNELIA 

[Tensely.]  Yes,  I  do  think  it  is  mild  for  this 
time  of  year. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

[Casually.]     Well  I  must  be  going  home  along. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     17 

CORNELIA 

[Looking  out  of  the  window.}      If  there  isn't 
the  mail  man  already.  .  .  . 

[She  picks  up  a  shawl. 

ELECTA 

Now,  Corny,  with  your  neuralgia.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

I'd  like  to  know  if  you  haven't  a  throat.  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Now  don't  stop  and  talk,  no  matter  if  it  is  mild. 

[CORNELIA  goes  out. 

ELECTA 

Sister  is  so  impulsive,  I  have  to  watch  her  like 
a  child.  She  looks  to  be  stronger,  but  she  has 
always  been  the  delicate  one.  Like  mother,  so 
sensitive  .  .  .  the  least  thing.  .  .  . 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Well,  if  that's  the  mail  man  .  .  .      [She  starts. 

ELECTA 

Oh,  just  a  minute.  What  was  it  you  were 
saying  about  the  Sunday  paper? 


i8  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    OBERLY 

{Vaguely.}  Did  I  mention  the  paper?  Oh 
yes,  I  guess  I  did  say  how  there  didn't  seem  to 
be  anything  in  it  this  week. 

ELECTA 

Exactly.  I  burned  ours  by  mistake.  In  case 
Sister  asks  to  borrow  yours,  you  might  say  yours 
was  gone  too. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

You  read  it,  'bout  them  plays? 

ELECTA 

I  glanced  it  over;  I  didn't  exactly  read  it  ... 

MRS.    OBERLY 

I  guess  you  felt  as  I  did. 

ELECTA 

[Seeing  her  sister  returning.}  Sh  .  .  .  we 
won't  say  any  more.  [CORNELIA  enters.}  Do 
come  in  again  soon. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

I  feel  terrible  about  your  not  goin'  to  the  conse 
cration,  all  on  account  of  that  Christmas  tree  for 
our  young  ones.  It  ain't  right.  [She  shows  em- 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     19 

barr ass  merit.'}     I  suppose  if  John  was  to  lend  you 
a  little  something  .  .  .  just  by  way  of  a  loan.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 
Oh,  Mrs.  Oberly,  we  couldn't  think  of  it. 

ELECTA 

We  have  quite  decided,  we  can't  afford  it. 

MRS.    OBERLY 

Well,  good  afternoon. 

CORNELIA 

Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Oberly. 

ELECTA 

Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Oberly. 

[CORNELIA  shows  her  out.  ELECTA  takes 
up  the  paper  that  has  just  come.  There 
is  a  little  pause  after  CORNELIA  returns. 

CORNELIA 

\Pretends  to  take  up  her  sewing .]  Do  you  re 
alise,  Electa,  that  to-morrow  is  the  sixtieth  anni 
versary  of  father  and  mother's  wedding? 

< 

ELECTA 

Goodness,  don't  remind  me,  the  way  time  flies. 


20  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

That  isn't  the  right  spirit — our  parents'  dia 
mond  wedding — it  is  only  proper  we  should  cele 
brate  it. 

ELECTA 

They  never  made  anything  of  it  when  they 
were  alive. 

CORNELIA 

All  the  more  reason  why  we  should  do  some 
thing,  and  besides,  it  is  the  Feast  of  the  Holy  In 
nocents. 

ELECTA 

I  never  heard  of  that  before. 

CORNELIA 

The  idea!  It  has  always  been  in  the  Prayer 
Book  in  black  and  white. 

ELECTA 

You  need  not  pretend  you  knew  any  more  about 
it  than  I  did  until  those  invitations  for  the  con 
secration  came. 

CORNELIA 

Well  now  we  do  know  about  it  we  ought  not  let 
it  pass,  and  to  miss  the  consecration  would  be — 
well — almost  a  sin. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     21 

ELECTA 

Cornelia  Milk,  it  was  you  yourself  decided  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

I  never  decide  anything,  I  always  leave  it  to 
you.  But  I  must  say,  if  we  miss  this  we  never 
shall  see  another,  and  it  will  be  a  wonderful  serv 
ice  in  the  cathedral,  with  candles,  vestments,  and 
everything. 

,  ELECTA 

But  when  it  come  to  choosing  between  a  tree 
for  the  children  or  going  in  town  to  the  consecra 
tion  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

We  chose  the  tree,  of  course,  but  now  that  is 
over  we  can  change  our  minds,  rise  to  the  occa 
sion,  and  make  a  sacrifice. 

ELECTA 

Oh,  sacrifice,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  one 
thing  more  we  could  sacrifice ! 

CORNELIA 

,  I  won't  get  a  dress  this  year,  that's  all. 

ELECTA 

The  idea,  you  haven't  a  dress  fit  to  be  seen.     I 


22  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

might  get  on  without  one,  perhaps,  I  don't  wear 
my  things  so  hard  as  you  do. 

CORNELIA 
I'll  wear  calico. 

ELECTA 

Don't  be  flighty.     We  owe  it  to  our  position 
to  appear  like  ladies  even  if  we  starve. 

CORNELIA 
Then  we'll  sell  another  lot  along  the  road. 

ELECTA 

There  will  be  precious  little  left  for  us  if  we 
sell  another  lot. 

CORNELIA 

I  don't  believe  in  hoarding  at  our  age,  any  more 
than  Carnegie. 

ELECTA 
We  can't  sell  a  lot  this  afternoon. 

CORNELIA 

We'll  borrow  money  from  Mr.  Oberly,  and  give 
him  a  mortgage. 

ELECTA 

Cornelia,  if  you  keep  on  tempting  me!      [She 
gets  up.}     I  won't  hear  you. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     23 

[The  telephone  rings  three  short  and  two 
long. 

CORNELIA 

Was  that  our  ring4?  You  had  better  see  any 
way. 

ELECTA 

[At  the  telephone,  aside.}  No  it  isn't  for  us. 
[She  listens,  and  then  hangs  up.]  It  was  Mrs. 
Oberly  telling  Mrs.  Ashbridge  we  aren't  going  to 
the  consecration  of  the  bishop. 

CORNELIA 

Oh,  passing  the  word  around,  is  she?  Explain 
ing  why,  I  suppose,  as  if  that  tree  or  their  young 
ones  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

[Fiercely.]  If  they  dared  to  offer  us  help  .  .  . 
I  ...  I  won't  stand  it!  Oh  I'm  willing  to  go, 
if  you  are  so  set  on  it. 

CORNELIA 

I'm  not  set.  You  are  the  one  to  decide.  I  only 
thought  there  is  more  than  one  reason  why  we 
should  go  now.  I  see  the  annual  bargain  sale 
is  advertised  at  Baxter  and  Baxter's :  if  we  got  our 
new  dresses  there  most  likely  we  should  save  the 
cost  of  the  trip  to  town. 


24  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

ELECTA 

Perhaps,  but  I  wouldn't  dare  go  to  one  of  those 
bargain  sales.  Why,  only  the  other  day  I  read 
of  a  woman  crushed  to  death  at  one  in  Cleveland, 
or  somewhere. 

CORNELIA 

I  wouldn't  be  so  afraid  of  being  killed  as  I 
would  of  getting  the  wrong  thing  in  the  excite 
ment.  I  never  can  think  when  I  am  excited,  and 
they  won't  let  you  exchange  a  thing. 

ELECTA 

Exactly  .  .  .  much  better  to  deal  with  home 
merchants,  we  always  did  like  to  bring  things 
home,  and  talk  them  over,  before  we  decide,  that's 
half  the  fun  of  shopping. 

CORNELIA 

I  leave  it  to  you. 

ELECTA 

Anyway,  you'd  get  so  tired  most  likely  it  would 
end  in  pneumonia. 

CORNELIA 

The  idea,  I'm  not  half  so  liable  to  things  as  you 
are.  The  least  thing  gives  you  a  cold. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     25 

ELECTA 

Now,  Corny,  dear,  you  know  how  imprudent 
you  are.  You're  just  like  mother,  so  sensi 
tive.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

I'm  not  half  so  sensitive  as  you  are,  if  I  didn't 
look  out  for  you  at  every  turn  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Very  well  then,  we  won't  argue,  let  us  settle 
it,  we  won't  go. 

CORNELIA 

Just  as  you  say,  but  when  you  think  of  the 
consecration,  and  that  it  is  the  Feast  of  the  Holy 
Innocents,  and  father  and  mother's  wedding  anni 
versary,  and  everything  else,  it  does  seem  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

We  can  read  about  them  all  in  the  papers. 

CORNELIA 

Yes,  I  thought  when  we  got  our  rural  delivery, 
and  could  have  a  daily  paper  almost  as  soon  as 
the  people  in  town.  I  thought  we  should  feel 
almost  as  if  we  lived  there;  but  I  declare,  the 
more  we  read  about  what  is  going  on  the  more 


26  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

tantalising  it  is.     I  sometimes  wish  we  never  saw 
a  paper. 

[The  telephone  rings  again,  several  long  and 
short. 

ELECTA 

Is  that  ours? 

CORNELIA 

I'd  better  see.  [Takes  down  receiver.  Aside.] 
Same  old  story.  .  .  .  [Hangs  up.]  Mrs.  Oberly 
telling  Mrs.  Linkum  now  .  .  .  how  we  are  giv 
ing  up  our  trip  .  .  .  such  saints.  .  .  .  ! 

ELECTA 

Saints !     No,  that  is  too  much ! 

CORNELIA 

Well  then? 

ELECTA 

As  if  they  could  understand  our  position. 
When  I  think  of  what  father  was,  and  all  the  ad 
vantages  he  had. 

CORNELIA 

Precisely!  If  he  had  ever  dreamed  of  his 
daughters  being  cooped  up  in  a  little  country  vil 
lage  all  their  lives.  .  .  . 

ELECTA 
Don't  blame  poor  father. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     27 

CORNELIA 

I  am  not  blaming  him,  I  am  proud  of  him.  It 
wasn't  every  one  went  to  Europe  in  those  days, 
and  learned  French  as  he  did  in  Paris. 

ELECTA 

If  he  hadn't  put  all  his  money  into  land  just 
here! 

CORNELIA 

It  wasn't  his  fault  Millet  didn't  grow  into  a 
big  city.  No  one  could  tell  in  those  days  which 
were  going  to  be  the  large  cities.  I've  been  crazy 
to  go  to  Paris  all  my  life ! 

[She  finds  an  old  encyclopedia  in  the  book 
case.  As  she  opens  it  various  autumn 
leaves  fall  out. 

ELECTA 

Paris,  who  wouldn't  like  to  see  Paris! 

CORNELIA 

[Reading.}  "Paris.  The  history  of  Paris  be 
gins  with  the  Commentaries  of  Julius  Caesar, 
wherein  he  speaks  of  Lutetia.  Strabo  calls  it  Lu- 
cotocia,  Ptolemy  Lucoticia,  and  the  Emperor  Ju 
lian  Louchetia  ..."  [She  sighs  and  stops  read 
ing.}  That  doesn't  suggest  Paris  at  all. 


28  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

ELECTA 

I  think  of  a  gay,  brilliant  place. 

CORNELIA 
Of  course  .  .  .  the  opera. 

ELECTA 

And  concerts.  ...  I  adore  music. 

CORNELIA 

The  beautiful  palaces  .  .  .  with  statues  stand 
ing  around.  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

The  galleries  of  paintings  .  .  .  don't  you  ache 
to  see  ...  to  see  a  really  famous  painting? 

CORNELIA 

I'd  like  to  eat  out  of  doors  at  a  little  table  with 
lamps  in  the  trees. 

ELECTA 

And  to  see  the  people  .  .  .  hundreds  of  people 
you  don't  know  .  .  .  one  might  have  an  adven 
ture.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

And  here  we  sit! 

ELECTA 

Shut  in. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     29 

CORNELIA 

And  life  passing  away — 

ELECTA 

Passed  away! 

{Telephone  jingles  again. 

CORNELIA 

You  needn't  listen,  it  will  be  the  same  old 
story.  Every  one  in  the  village  must  know  it 
by  this  time. 

ELECTA 

Let  them  talk.  ...  I've  decided  to  go. 

CORNELIA 

Sister! 

ELECTA 

Yes,  I've  thought  it  out.  We'll  borrow  the 
money  as  Mrs.  Oberly  offered  and  I'll  telephone 
in  to  Lizzie  Oman,  and  see  if  she  will  let  us  visit 
her  for  the  night.  We  can't  afford  a  hotel. 

CORNELIA 

Electa  Milk,  are  you  willing  to  stay  at  Charles 
Oman's  house*? 

ELECTA 

I?     You  may  not  like  to  go,  Cornelia. 


30  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

It  was  you  he  was  in  love  with. 

ELECTA 

No,  I  always  said  it  was  you. 

CORNELIA 

Those  poems  were  to  you. 

ELECTA 

We  never  were  sure. 

CORNELIA 

Well,  I  am  sure,  he  never  proposed  to  me. 

ELECTA 

He  never  proposed  to  me. 

CORNELIA 

Now,  Electa,  if  you  think  you  can  deceive 
me  ... 

ELECTA 

Well,  anyway,  we  can't  deceive  ourselves  as 
to  when  it  all  happened.  Let  me  think  .  .  . 
it  was  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Twenty-five  .  .  . 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     31 

ELECTA 

Thirty  years  ago. 

CORNELIA 

No  matter,  if  you  feel  you  can  go  to  his  house 
...  I  don't. 

ELECTA 

Lizzie  has  asked  us  more  than  once,  and  we 
have  been  there  to  lunch.  [She  takes  up  the  tel 
ephone.}  I  want  long  distance.  .  .  .  Milwau 
kee.  .  .  .  Yes. 

CORNELIA 

Electa,  long-distance  is  fifty  cents ! 

ELECTA 

I  can't  help  it.  ...  No,  I'll  hold  the  line. 
[Aside.]  If  she  rings  us  up  they'll  all  be  on  the 
line  listening. 

CORNELIA 

Sister,  I  think  you  are  hasty,  deciding  things 
in  this  off-hand  way.  We  ought  to  talk  it  over 
first,  and  be  sure. 

ELECTA 

Mrs.  Charles  Oman's  residence.  Yes.  Is  this 
Mrs.  Oman's  residence?  She's  out?  Dear, 
dear!  Oh,  Louise,  is  that  you?  Is  your  mother 


32  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

out?  This  is  Miss  Milk  of  Millet.  No,  not 
Miller.  Miss  Milk,  MILK,  you  know,  what 
cows  give.  Yes.  What  .  .  .  She  is?  Com 
ing  here?  Now  isn't  that  a  coincidence!  Yes 
.  .  .  yes  .  .  .  yes  .  .  .  good-bye.  [Hangs  up.} 
Of  all  things,  I  should  say  it  was  the  hand  of 
Providence.  Lizzie  Oman  came  out  to  Beasely 
to-day  to  old  Mrs.  Park's  funeral,  you  know  the 
Parks  are  her  cousins,  and  Louise  says  she  is 
coming  over  here  before  she  returns  to  town. 

CORNELIA 

Dear  me,  and  your  sponge  cake  burned,  we 
haven't  a  thing  but  bread  in  the  house. 

ELECTA 
I'll  run  right  over  to  the  store. 

[She  begins  to  get  her  cloak. 

CORNELIA 

I  oughtn't  to  let  you  go  with  your  throat.  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

I'd  like  to  know  if  I'd  let  you  run  any  risks 
with  your  neuralgia. 

CORNELIA 
Don't  get  ginger  snaps. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     33 

ELECTA 

I'll  get  some  of  those  lovely  wafers  in  a  tin 
box.  We  can't  spare  expense  at  a  time  like  this. 

CORNELIA 

Now  don't  be  impulsive,  and  decide  in  a 
hurry.  I  really  ought  to  go  with  you.  Look 
over  everything  Mrs.  Gunn  has  first,  there  may 
be  some  new  cracker  they  are  having  in  the  city. 
I  wish  I  knew  just  what  they  have  at  their  teas. 

ELEGTA 

Olives,  or  a  little  cream  cheese*? 

CORNELIA 

I'll  make  some  marmalade  sandwiches.  I  read 
about  them  in  the  paper.  [The  telephone  jin 
gles  again.  She  addresses  it  without  going  to  it 
this  time.]  Oh  yes,  tell  them  we  are  not  go 
ing,  tell  them  we  are  such  saints,  take  up  a  sub 
scription  for  us!  [To  her  Sister.]  Do  be  care 
ful  of  the  steps,  they  are  slippery,  if  you  were  to 
fall  and  break  your  hip. 

ELECTA 

[As  she  goes  out.]  If  she  has  some  of  her 
own  head  cheese,  or  do  you  think  sardines'? 

[She  goes  out. 


34  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

[Calling  after  her.}  No,  no,  they  are  so  old 
fashioned.  .  .  .  Don't  hurry.  ...  I  didn't  say 
hurry,  I  said  don't  hurry.  ...  No  matter. 
[She  comes  forward.}  Mercy,  she  will  be  sure 
to  fall.  I  never  should  have  let  her  go  alone. 
[She  picks  up  the  paper  eagerly^  and  scans  it, 
then  turns  to  the  telephone.}  Mamie,  I  want 
long-distance  again  .  .  .  yes,  I  know  it  is  fifty 
cents,  it's  horrid  of  the  company  to  have  such  a 
charge  ...  I  want  the  Milwaukee  Opera  House 
.  .  .  yes  .  .  .  line's  busy.  .  .  .  Hello,  is  that 
the  Opera  Housed  Can  I  have  two  seats,  no  I 
mean  three,  for  Thursday  evening?  Yes,  Ca- 
mille.  .  .  .  How  much?  .  .  .  Oh,  have  you 
any  for  $1.50?  Not  any  $2.00  either,  only 
$2.50  in  the  sixth  row  .  .  .  goodness  .  .  .  wait 
a  minute  .  .  .  yes  I'll  take  them.  .  .  .  Miss 
Milk  ...  no  not  Miller,  Milk  .  .  .  not  Mick, 
Milk,  MILK,  you  know  what  cows  give.  .  .  . 
No,  not  Crosby,  cows  give,  didn't  you  ever  hear 
of  cows?  Yes,  Milk.  .  .  .  Can't  you  keep 
them  longer  than  that?  .  .  .  We  can't  get  to 
town  before  ten  thirty.  .  .  .  Well,  send  them  to 
Mr.  Charles  Oman's  bank,  he'll  be  responsible 
for  them.  ...  Be  sure  now.  .  .  .  [She  hangs 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     35 

up  and  breathes  in  hard  excitement.  There  is 
a  knock  at  the  door.  She  lets  in  a  middle  aged 
lady  handsomely  dressed.  She  is  MRS.  OMAN.] 
Lizzie  Oman,  of  all  things ! 

MRS.  OMAN 

I  thought  I'd  surprise  you.  Isn't  your  sister 
here? 

CORNELIA 

She'll  be  back  directly. 

MRS.    OMAN 

I  came  out  to  old  Mrs.  Park's  funeral. 

CORNELIA 

Yes,  so  we  heard. 

MRS.    OMAN 

You  did?     How  in  the  world — 

CORNELIA 

We  just  telephoned  to  your  house. 

MRS.    OMAN 

To  tell  me  that  you  were  coming  in  to  the 
consecration  of  the  new  bishop!  I  knew  you 
would  be  sure  to,  such  good  church  women  as 
you  are,  it  couldn't  happen  without  you.  Now 


36  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

I  want  you  to  come  in  with  me  this  afternoon, 
and  stay  over  Sunday  at  least. 

CORNELIA 

Impossible ! 

MRS.    OMAN 

Nonsense.  Toss  something  into  a  suit-case, 
I'll  lend  you  anything  you  forget.  I've  a  car 
riage  to  take  you  to  the  station. 

CORNELIA 
There  is  so  much  to  see  to.  ... 

MRS.    OMAN 

Not  a  word.  I'll  run  over  to  see  Mrs.  Ash- 
bridge,  and  leave  you  to  get  ready.  I'll  be  back 
in  twenty  minutes. 

[ELECTA  enters,  her  hands  full  of  packages ', 
which  she  tries  to  conceal.  MRS.  OMAN 
kisses  her. 

ELECTA 

Lizzie  Oman — 

MRS.    OMAN 

It's  all  arranged,  you  are  coming  with  me 
to-day. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     37 

ELECTA 

To-day4?  Impossible!  You  must  have 
tea.  .  .  . 

MRS.    OMAN 

[Hurrying  off.]  No  time  for  tea.  I'll  be 
back  soon.  [She  makes  her  exit. 

ELECTA 

Did  you  ever ! 

CORNELIA 

Just  like  Lizzie,  she  always  was  a  whirlwind. 
That's  the  way  she  married  Charles  Oman.  If 
you  hadn't  been  so  deliberate.  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Cornelia  Milk,  it  was  you  never  could  or  would 
decide  anything. 

CORNELIA 
I  will  decide  now. 

[She  begins  to  tie  up  her  head. 

ELECTA 

You're  crazy,  you  haven't  packed  yet. 

CORNELIA 

We  have  got  to  have  some  money  first.  I'm 
going  right  over  to  John  Oberly's.  .  .  . 


38  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

ELECTA 

Get  ten  dollars  ...  no,  twenty. 

CORNELIA 

Of  course.  I  put  my  black  silk  in  the  valise 
this  morning  in  case  anything  happened,  so  I 
haven't  much  packing  to  do. 

ELECTA 

And  I  packed  the  hand  bag,  but  I  didn't  say 
anything,  for  I  thought  you  would  be  so  disap 
pointed  in  case  nothing  happened.  There  now, 
do  be  careful,  don't  hurry,  you  will  be  sure  to  slip, 
you  are  so  impulsive. 

[CORNELIA  hurries  off. 

ELECTA 

[At  the  telephone.]  Mamie,  I  wish  you  would 
hurry  please  and  give  me  long-distance,  Milwau 
kee.  ...  I  want  the  Opera  House.  .  .  .  No,  I 
will  hold  the  line.  ...  Is  this  the  Opera  House? 
.  .  .  Well,  I  want  three  of  your  best  seats  for  to 
morrow  afternoon  for  Bernhardt.  .  .  .  Yes,  "La 
Tosca."  .  .  .  What,  only  box  seats  for  three  dol 
lars?  Well,  yes,  all  right,  three.  .  .  .  For  Miss 
Milk,  of  Millet.  What?  Do  I  want  them  sent 
to  Oman's  bank?  What  made  you  think  of  that? 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     39 

.  .  .  You  can't  keep  them?  Very  well,  but  don't 
let  him  pay  for  them,  charge  them  to  me.  Yes, 
plain  Milk,  you  know — milk,  cream,  butter,  eggs, 
.  .  .  what  cows  give.  Now  don't  fail  to  send 
the  best  you  have  left. 

[She  leaves  the  telephone,  and  hurries  to 

gather  up  her  packages. 
^CORNELIA  enters  with  JENNIE  OBERLY,  a 
fresh-faced  girl  of  twelve. 

CORNELIA 

Here's  Jennie  to  see  about  everything  while  we 
are  gone.  John  will  bring  the  money  over  before 
we  go. 

[While  they  are  talking  CORNELIA  brings  in 
an  old- fashioned  valise  and  is  busy  packing 
things  she  has  brought  in  from  the  bed 
room. 

ELECTA 

Now,  Jennie,  you  know  how  to  run  the  base 
burner? 

JENNIE 
Yes'm,  it's  like  ours. 

CORNELIA 

And  you  must  feed  Petkins. 


40  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

JENNIE 

Oh,  yes'm. 

ELECTA 

But  don't  you  give  him  meat. 

[She  gets  her  hand  bag  and  begins  to  pack 
also. 

CORNELIA 

He'd  be  happier  to  stay  right  here  at  night. 

ELECTA 

You  must  give  him  all  the  cream — he  will  miss 
us  so. 

CORNELIA 

And,   Jennie  dear  ...  in  case  ...  in  case 
anything  happens  to  us.  ... 

ELECTA 
[Protesting.}     Sister! 

CORNELIA 

We  must  think  of  every  contingency  before  go 
ing  on  a  journey. 

JENNIE 

[Cheerfully.}     If   you    fell    and   broke   your 
hip.  .  .  . 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     41 

CORNELIA 

No,  I  mean,  in  case  anything  happened  and  we 
didn't  come  back,  then,  you  are  to  have  Petkins. 

JENNIE 
Oh,  Miss  Corny ! 

ELECTA 

Yes,  and  I  trust  you,  Jennie,  to  be  very  kind  to 
him. 

JENNIE 
Oh,  Miss  Lecty ! 

CORNELIA 

And  Jennie,  we  shall  be  gone  over  Sunday.  I 
hope  you  will  learn  your  Bible  lesson  just  the 
same. 

ELECTA 

We'll  hear  you  when  we  get  back. 

CORNELIA 

[Shutting  the  valise.]     There,  that  is  done. 

ELECTA 

[Solemnly.]  Sister,  there  is  still  time  to 
change  our  minds,  are  you  sure  we  are  doing  the 
right  thing  to  go4? 


42  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

JENNIE 

[Aghast.]     Not  go  now? 

ELECTA 

There,  Jennie,  you  run  back  to  mother. 

JENNIE 

Mother,  she  says  she  don't  blame  you  for 
changing  your  minds,  any  lady  likes  to  change 
her  mind;  but  father,  he  says,  that  last  time  you 
took  back  the  dress  to  Beasely,  he  says.  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 
Now,  Jennie.  .  .  . 

JENNIE 

He  says,  if  you  ladies  had  been  married  you 
couldn't  'a  changed  your  minds  so  easy,  that's 
what  he  says. 

CORNELIA 

Now,  Jennie,  it  isn't  good  manners  to  talk  about 
your  elders. 

ELECTA 

Nor  to  talk  about  marriage  to  unmarried  la 
dies. 

CORNELIA 

Run  along  now,  that's  a  good  girl,  and  remem 
ber  to  keep  the  stove  going,  and  to  feed  the  cat. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     43 

ELECTA 

And  learn  your  Bible  lesson.  We'll  put  the  key 
under  the  mat. 

[They  show  JENNIE  out. 

ELECTA 

Now  we  mustn't  be  hasty,  Corny.  .  .  .  It's  for 
you  to  decide. 

CORNELIA 

Because  I  am  older  you  want  to  put  all  the  re 
sponsibility  on  me. 

ELECTA 

Quietly,  quietly,  there  is  no  need  of  getting  ex 
cited.  John  hasn't  brought  the  money  yet.  You 
must  remember  if  we  sell  another  lot  it  will  put 
their  back  yard  and  all  their  Monday  wash  right 
where  we  can  see  it  from  our  front  door.  Of 
course  it  is  a  church  function,  something  we  shall 
want  to  remember  for  the  rest  of  our  lives  but 
still  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Very  well,  if  you  are  afraid  to  go  we'll  give  it 
up. 

[There  is  a  knock  at  the  door  and  MRS. 
OMAN  enters. 


44  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    OMAN 

Well  are  you  all  ready?     Mr.  Oberly  met  me 
at  the  gate  and  asked  me  to  give  you  this. 

[She  holds  out  an  envelope  to  CORNELIA. 

ELECTA 

Lizzie  dear,  we  are  not  sure  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

You  see  Electa  has  a  very  delicate  throat  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Oh,  it  isn't  my  throat  half  so  much  as  sister's 
neuralgia. 

MRS.    OMAN 

Not  another  word.     Put  on  your  hats.     You 
may  never  see  another  consecration. 

CORNELIA 
Just  like  a  man,  taking  vows  for  life. 

ELECTA 

As  if  one  could  ever  be  sure. 

MRS.    OMAN 

There  is  a  nice  orchestral  concert  on  Friday,  you 
must  hear  that. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     45 

CORNELIA 

We  love  music. 

ELECTA 

And  out  here  there  is  not  much  music,  except  of 
course,  sacred  music. 

CORNELIA 

And  graphaphones,  we  have  heard  some  beauti 
ful  records. 

MRS.    OMAN 

And  Saturday  afternoon  there  is  a  card  party  at 
the  club. 

CORNELIA 

So  we  saw  by  the  paper. 

MRS.    OMAN 

Fancy  your  noticing  what  we  are  doing  in  town. 

ELECTA 

Why  not1?     We  get  our  paper  almost  as  soon  as 
you  do  in  the  city. 

CORNELIA 

We  always  read  all  the  society  news,  it's  the 
only*way  we  can  take  part. 

ELECTA 

It  is  so  interesting.     I  don't  suppose  the  ladies 
really  do  play  for  money  as  they  say  they  do. 


46  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    OMAN 

You  wouldn't  have  to  see  them.  Perhaps  two 
or  three  tables  of  the  gay  set  in  the  back  room 
might  be  playing  for  money. 

CORNELIA 

Dear  me,  I'd  like  to  see  ladies  gambling,  just 
once  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

Be  careful  dear,  Lizzie  might  think  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

I  would,  and  I'd  like  to  try  it  myself  to  see  what 
it  felt  like. 

ELECTA 

Sister!  you  are  too  impulsive!  [Apologizing. ,] 
You  see  our  lives  are  so  quiet. 

MRS.    OMAN 

Of  course  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

Yes,  and  I'd  like  to  see  a  lady  smoking  a  ciga 
rette. 

MRS.    OMAN 

You  wicked  creature.  I  must  think  of  some 
friend  who  indulges.  I  wish  there^was  a  play  at 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     47 

the  theatre  you  would  enjoy.  If  it  were  only  last 
week,  "The  Old  Homestead"  was  playing.  You 
would  have  loved  it,  all  about  the  country.  And 
the  week  before,  "Mrs.  Wiggs"  was  here,  such  a 
sweet  wholesome  piece: 

CORNELIA 

[Mildly.]     Really? 

MRS.    OMAN 

Of  course  Bernhardt  is  coming  to-morrow,  in 
some  of  her  awful  French  plays,  you  wouldn't 
care  for  those,  I  suppose*? 

ELECTA 

I  don't  know  .  .  .  perhaps  not  .  .  . 

CORNELIA 

She  is  famous. 

ELECTA 

You  didn't  think  of  going  yourself? 

MRS.    OMAN 

Mr.  Oman  refused  to  take  me.  Not  that  we 
aren't  old  enough  to  stand  anything,  but  he  doesn't 
want  daughter  to  go;  and  besides,  he  likes  to  be 
amused  at  the  theatre  and  he  hates  those  dread 
ful,  sensational  pieces  and  in  a  foreign  tongue. 


48  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

I  suppose  men  do. 

ELECTA 

We  wondered  .  .  . 

MRS.    OMAN 

You  don't  mean  you  would  like  to  see  her? 

CORNELIA 

You  see  our  father  used  to  tell  us  a  great  deal 
about  Paris. 

ELECTA 

He  went  there  in  1847. 

CORNELIA 

When  Louis  Philippe  was  king. 

ELECTA 

And  we  have  longed  to  go  there  all  our  lives. 

CORNELIA 

And  we  thought  to  see  one  of  these  plays  would 
be  something  like  going. 

ELECTA 
In  a  way  it  would  be  quite  instructive. 

CORNELIA 

But  of  course  if  Mr.  Oman  feels  so  strongly 
about  it  . 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS     49 

ELECTA 

As  your  guests  we  mustn't  do  anything  .  .  . 

MRS.    OMAN 

Goodness,  we're  old  enough  and  I'm  dying  to 
go  ... 

CORNELIA 

No  one  need  know. 

ELECTA 

You  can't  understand,  but  we  sometimes  feel  as 
if  ...  well  .  .  .  something  a  little  spicy  might 
liven  us  up  a  bit. 

MRS.    OMAN 

Not  another  word.  We'll  go  if  I  can  get 
seats  so  late.  I  must  telephone  before  we  start  for 
the  train. 

[  The  sisters  exchange  glances. 

CORNELIA 

Oh,  no,  not  now. 

ELECTA 

Let  us  decide  tomorrow. 

MRS.    OMAN 

It  may  be  too  late  then. 


50  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

CORNELIA 

Let  us  go  to  the  consecration  first. 

ELECTA 

Yes,  that  is  the  important  thing.  That  is  what 
we  are  really  going  for. 

CORNELIA 

Then  if  we  feel  in  the  mood  for  a  little  .  .  . 
well  .  .  .  diversion  .  .  . 

ELECTA 

We  will  take  our  chances.  We  never  like  to 
decide  things  ahead. 

CORNELIA 
One  never  can  tell  what  may  happen. 

MRS.    OMAN 

Just  as  you  say,  but  if  we  are  going  to  get  the 
5 :2O  we  must  be  off.  [Starts  to  the  door. 

CORNELIA 

Sister  listen  to  me,  we  are  not  going  on  my  de 
cision.  It  was  you  that  decided.  I  will  take  no 
responsibility. 

ELECTA 

Nor  I,  I  left  it  entirely  to  you. 


FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS      51 

MRS.    OMAN 

Are  you  coming? 

CORNELIA 

Then  we  each  go  of  our  own  free  will*? 

MRS.    OMAN 

Come. 

CORNELIA    &    ELECTA 

[  They  speak  together  and  go  out  slowly.  ]     Yes 
— we  are  coming. 


ON  THE  PIER 

BY  LAURA  SHERRY 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

RICHARD,  a  boy 
JESSICA,  a  girl 


ON  THE  PIER 

TIME:     The  present.     A  Spring  midnight. 

SCENE:  A  pier  in  the  river.  A  quivering  spot 
of  water  is  revealed  where  the  moonlight  touches 
the  river.  A  pier  is  etched  into  the  shadow.  A 
crude  board  walk  crosses  at  right  angles  in  front 
of  the  pier.  Short  piles  break  the  line  at  inter 
vals  on  the  edge  of  the  walk.  On  the  right  is 
an  impromptu  bridge  connecting  the  walk  with 
the  more  solid  ground  of  the  bank.  IS! ear  the 
pier  is  a  rough  bench,  a  board  thrown  across  two 
of  the  piles.  It  is  about  midnight  in  the  Spring 
of  the  year.  There  is  a  sound  of  the  gentle  lap 
ping  of  waves  on  the  pier.  The  pier  is  empty. 

JESSICA  enters  over  the  bridge  and  walks  out  onto 
the  pier.  She  remains  a  moment  standing  look 
ing  over  the  water,  then  she  sits  on  the  edge 
of  the  pier  still  facing  the  water. 

RICHARD 

[Enters  from  the  left.     He  walks  slowly  with 
his  head  bowed.     He  hesitates — then  hurries  im- 

57 


58  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

pulsively  out  onto  the  pier.     JESSICA  looks  up. 
He  faces  her.]     You — what  are  you  doing  here? 

JESSICA 

And  you—  [Finishes  his  thought  for  him,  im 
itating  his  melodramatic  manner. \  At  this  time 
of  night  alone !  Cut  out  the  melodrama. 

RICHARD 

{Intensely.  ]     I  never  expected  to  see  you  again. 

JESSICA 

[Laughs.]     I  never  thought  about  it. 

RICHARD 

You  remember  me? 

JESSICA 

Of  course.  I  couldn't  forget  a  friend  like  you 
who  had  done  me  such  a  good  turn.  Are  you  still 
in  that  office? 

RICHARD 

No. 

JESSICA 

It's  queer  isn't  it  that  we  should  meet  again — 

RICHARD 

And  here — 


ON  THE  PIER  59 

JESSICA 

You  were  a  good  pal  that  day,  all  right,  to 
me — a  stranger. 

RICHARD 

Someway  you  didn't  seem  like  a  stranger  to  me. 
It  felt  like  I  had  known  you  always. 

JESSICA 

I  trusted  you  too  right  away  instead  of  your 
employer. 

RICHARD 
That  man  is  a  beast. 

JESSICA 

I  came  from  the  country  in  answer  to  his  ad 
vertisement.  I  was  so  hopeful.  It  all  seemed  so 
easy. 

RICHARD 

Yes — that's  what  he  does,  advertises  in  the 
country  papers.  He  figures  that  country  girls  are 
easier  than  city  girls.  How  have  things  gone  with 
you?  What  has  happened  since  I  saw  you*? 
Did  you  get  a  job? 

JESSICA 
Which  question  will  I  answer  first?  t 


60  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

RICHARD 

[Suddenly  apprehensive.  ]     Why  are  you  here  *? 

JESSICA 
[Nervously.]     Why  are  you  here? 

RICHARD 

[Bows  his  head  despondently.}  It's  no  use. 
I've  tried  to  keep  square  with  myself.  I  tell  you 
it's  no  use. 

JESSICA 

[Stimulated  by  an  interest  outside  herself.] 
Come,  things  can't  be  so  bad  as  that,  they  never 
are. 

RICHARD 
They  are  worse. 

JESSICA 

Why  you  are  nothing  but  a  kid. 

RICHARD 

[Walks  away  from  her.}  I'm  a  failure.  I'm 
not  good  for  anything. 

JESSICA 

Oh  rot!  You  have  your  whole  life  ahead  of 
you.  You're  nothing  but  a  kid.  You're  too 
young  to  be  discouraged. 


ON  THE  PIER  61 

RICHARD 

I  can't  help  it. 

JESSICA 

[Follows  him  to  the  walk  in  front  of  the  pier. 
He  has  seated  himself  on  one  of  the  piles.  She 
sits  on  the  edge  of  the  pier.}  What  happened? 
Don't  you  like  your  job?  Doesn't  your  employer 
treat  you  well  ? 

RICHARD 

After  you  left  the  office  that  day — 

JESSICA 
Yes— 

RICHARD 

Well — the  manager  fired  me  for  putting  you 
on. 

JESSICA 

[Despondently.}  Oh — I'm  sorry.  I  seem  to 
be  a  regular  hoodoo. 

RICHARD 

It  wasn't  your  fault.  I  was  going  to  chuck  it 
anyway. 

JESSICA 

Haven't  you  been  able  to  get  anything  else  to 
do? 


62  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

RICHARD 

That  was  my  first  job.     He  didn't  give  me  a 
recommendation  of  course. 

JESSICA 
So  you  had  to  start  all  over  again? 

RICHARD 

Yes,  but  I've  had  several  chances  since. 

JESSICA 
Then  it  isn't  so  bad  is  it? 

RICHARD 

One   was   in   the   office   of   a  politician.     He 
wasn't  honest  either. 

JESSICA 

And  so  you  quit  him  too,  silly  kid.     You  can't 
make  over  the  world  in  a  day. 

RICHARD 
I  couldn't  stand  it.     It  was — it  was  rotten. 

JESSICA 

But  surely  there  are  plenty  of  honest  people  to 
work  for. 

RICHARD 

Oh  yes,  I  got  other  jobs,  but  I  didn't  make  good 
in  them. 


ON  THE  PIER  63 

JESSICA 

Why  not? 

RICHARD 

I  wasn't  trained  for  them. 

JESSICA 

Well,  you  just  have  to  keep  looking  until  you 
find  something  you  are  fitted  for. 

RICHARD 

I've  looked  and  looked — God  how  I've  looked ! 
I've  worn  out  my  shoes  looking,  but  I  haven't 
found  anything. 

JESSICA 

Is  your  home  in  New  York? 

RICHARD 

Yes. 

JESSICA 

You  arc  lucky  to  have  a  home  and  some  one  to 
look  after  you  while  you  are  hunting  a  job.  Can't 
your  father  help  you? 

RICHARD 

No.  Mother  has  taken  care  of  me  ever  since 
I  was  born.  ...  I  never  had  a  father — damn 
him. 


64  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

JESSICA 

Oh— 

RICHARD 

[Is  silent  an  instant— then.}     Mother   went 
two  weeks  ago.     I  guess  she  worried  herself  out. 

[Sits  on  one  of  the  piles. 

JESSICA 

Oh — how  cruel. 

RICHARD 

But  she  never  minded  my  leaving  the  jobs,  or 
not  making  good.     She  always  understood. 

JESSICA 
Of  course — 

RICHARD 

[Sighs   heavily.]     It's   been   terrible   without 
her— 

JESSICA 

She  always  understood — 

RICHARD 

I — I  tried  to  dig  in  a  ditch.     I  boasted  to  my 

employer  when  I  left  him  that  I  was  going  to  dig 

in  a  ditch.     I  told  him  it  wasn't  such  dirty  work. 

[He  rises  and  tries  to  straighten  up. 


ON  THE  PIER  65 

JESSICA 

[Laughs.]     You  dig  in  a  ditch! 

RICHARD 

It  wasn't  funny.  I  couldn't  do  it.  I  wasn't 
any  good,  I  didn't  have  the  strength  and  the  boss 
after  swearing  at  me  all  day — told  me  to  get  out 
and  not  come  back. 

JESSICA 
That  was  hard  luck. 

RICHARD 

[Staggers.]  It  was  to-day  that  I  worked  in  a 
ditch  and — I'm  all  in — 

JESSICA 
Poor  kid,  have  you  had  your  supper? 

RICHARD 

[Sits  on  pile.}     No— I — 

JESSICA 

Your  mother  always  got  the  supper — 

RICHARD 

I — I  can't  sit  here — I  guess  I'll  have  to  lie 
down  a  minute. 


66  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

JESSICA 

[She  helps  him  to  lie  on  the  walk.]  Let  me 
help  you — there,  you'll  be  all  right  soon. 

[She  sits  on  the  pile. 

RICHARD 
Tell  me — tell  me  why  are  you  here? 

JESSICA 

I've  learned  a  good  many  things  since  that  ex 
perience  in  your  manager's  office. 

RICHARD 
I  suppose  it's  been  pretty  bad  sometimes. 

JESSICA 
Pretty  bad. 

RICHARD 

Of  course  you  tried  again. 

JESSICA 

Again  and  again,  New  York  seems  full  of  girls 
who  just  got  in  ahead  of  me.  And  then  in  some 
of  the  offices  the  men  were  like  your  employer. 
I  grew  discouraged.  I  began  to  suspect  every 
body.  The  people  in  the  city  are  so  different 
from  the  ones  I've  known  in  the  country. 


ON  THE  PIER  67 

RICHARD 

It  must  have  been  hard. 

JESSICA 

Yes —  and  I  wasn't  so  sure  of  myself  either. 
Some  way  I  didn't  feel  so  sure  as  I  did  when  I  left 
home. 

RICHARD 
What  have  you  been  doing? 

JESSICA 

I've  been  running  away  from  everything.  I 
ran  from  your  manager  and  other  men.  [She 
rises  and  walks  away  from  him.}  I  was  a  weak 
coward.  I  wouldn't  face  anything.  At  last  I  be 
came  a  housemaid. 

RICHARD 

./ 

A  housemaid ! 

JESSICA 

Yes — rather  a  come  down  wasn't  it  when  I  was 
so  ambitious?  I  couldn't  stand  the  loneliness  so 
I  ran  to  this  pier.  You  don't  know  how  dread 
ful  it  is  sitting  in  a  skylight  bedroom  four  flights 
up  or  in  a  basement  kitchen  with  not  even  a  win 
dow  that  looks  out  on  anything. 


68  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

RICHARD 

It's  hard  for  a  girl. 

JESSICA 
Oh — no  harder  for  a  girl  than  a  boy  but — 

RICHARD 

Girls  are  weaker  than  boys. 

JESSICA 

[Turns  and  sits  on  edge  of  "pier.]     No  we're 
not.     I'm  just  as  strong  as  you  are. 

RICHARD 

Somebody  ought  to  take  care  of  you  and  love 
you  decently. 

JESSICA 

I  can  take  care  of  myself  and  get  along  with 
out  love  better  than  you  can. 

RICHARD 

What  are  you  here  for?     What  are  you  going 
to  do? 

JESSICA 

I  was  trying  to  make  up  my  mind  to  jump  in — 
but  then  so  were  you. 


ON  THE  PIER  69 

RICHARD 

[Sits  up  in  horror.}  You— why  you  are  too 
beautiful.  There  is  everything  in  the  world  for 
you  to  live  for.  I  won't  let  you  do  it. 

JESSICA 

[  Laughing.  ]  After  you  are  drowned,  how  can 
you  prevent  me*? 

RICHARD 

I'll  stay  here  and  prevent  you.  I'm  not  going 
to  do  what  I  said.  I  hadn't  fully  made  up  my 
mind  anyway. 

JESSICA 

Oh,  you  are  just  here  to  try  to — 

RICHARD 

For  the  same  reason  you  are,  to  try  to  make  my 
self  do  it. 

JESSICA 

Then  we're  quits.  There's  no  difference  be 
tween  us. 

RICHARD 

I'm  stronger  than  you  are. 

JESSICA 
You  were  running  away  too. 


?o  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

RICHARD 

I've  changed  my  mind. 

JESSICA 
That's  like  a  woman. 

RICHARD 

I  don't  care. 

JESSICA 
[Laughs.]     Why  should  you? 

RICHARD 

I'm  not  going  to  run  away  now. 

JESSICA 

Neither  am  I — I'm  going  back  with  you. 
[She  crosses  over  to  him  and  slips  her  arm 
around  him  to  help  him  up. 

RICHARD 
Will  you  marry  me? 

JESSICA 
What  for? 

RICHARD 

Because  I  love  you. 

JESSICA 

That's  what  they  all  told  me,  the  first  thing, 


ON  THE  PIER  71 

just  like  you.     But  they  didn't  ask  me  to  marry 
them.     Gee  it  sounds  country. 

RICHARD 
But  I  love  you  and  want  to  do  the  right  thing. 

JESSICA 

Oh,  that's  all  right.  It  doesn't  make  any  dif 
ference,  really.  Perhaps  we'll  be  friends  and  we 
may  be  able  to  help  each  other. 

RICHARD 
I  don't  understand— 

JESSICA 
Neither  do  I — 

RICHARD 

My  mother — 

JESSICA 

Never  mind  your  mother.  I  can't  help  liking 
you.  Maybe  it's  because  you  are  weak,  maybe 
it's  because  .  .  .  Have  you  any  money*? 

RICHARD 
[Immediately  wilts.}     No — I  haven't  a  cent. 

JESSICA 
Well  I  have.     I've  been  saving  my  wages  for 


72  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

weeks.  No  one  to  do  things  with  so  what  was  the 
use  of  spending  money.  Just  wait  a  minute. 
[She  draws  from  her  pocket  a  small  roll  of  bills. ,] 
My  wages! 

RICHARD 
Gee — I  haven't  seen  so  much  money  as  that — 

JESSICA 

It  makes  you  feel  sort  of  weak  doesn't  it.  Well 
it  will  buy  food.  Come  along. 

[As  they  start  he  staggers  again. 

RICHARD 

No — I  can't  go  any  further.  I  guess  I'm  going 
to  faint. 

JESSICA 

Here,  sit  here.  [She  kelps  him  to  the  rough 
bench  on  the  right.}  Say,  you  need  something  to 
eat.  You're  weak  from  work  and  hunger. 

RICHARD 

Oh,  I  don't  think  I  can  go  back — I  don't  feel 
equal  to  anything. 

JESSICA 

You'll  be  all  right.  You  must  be.  What's 
the  use  of  giving  in  so  easy*? 


ON  THE  PIER  73 

RICHARD 

You  talk  that  way  now.  You  felt  different  a 
few  minutes  ago. 

JESSICA 

I  came  here  to  end  it  all — it  made  me  think — 
and  then  you  came — and  it  changed  things — 

RICHARD 
Really, — how*?     Do  you  care*? 

JESSICA 

You  seem  worth  saving.  I  didn't  seem  worth 
saving. 

RICHARD 

You  are — you  are — and  I  am  going  to  save  you 
I —  [He  rises  in  his  enthusiasm  but  falls  back 
weakly.]  Oh  I'm  no  good.  I  can't  do  it. 

JESSICA 

Yes  you  can — you  have — don't  you  see — you 
have  saved  me. 

RICHARD 

You — you're  wonderful — but  what's  the  use  of 
trying — what's  the  use  of  living?  You  can't  live 
in  New  York;  they  won't  let  you.  What  else  is 
there? 


74  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

JESSICA 

There  is  everything.  Look — look  at  the  lights 
of  the  city.  Isn't  it  magnificent?  Isn't  it  great? 
I  love  New  York. 

RICHARD 

It's  a  cruel  city.  It  killed  my  mother.  It  will 
kill  me — and  you — and  everybody  decent — 

JESSICA 
Perhaps — but  I  love  it — 

RICHARD 

It's  wicked.  It's  hell,  I  tell  you.  I  hate  it.  I 
can't  go  back —  [Weakly.]  —it  killed  my 
mother,  it  will  kill  me — it — 

JESSICA 

Lord,  I've  felt  that  way  often  enough,  and  then 
I've  had  a  sort  of  longing  for  home — for  Wau- 
wauzeke,  Wisconsin.  It's  in  the  Kickapoo  val 
ley,  Wauwauzeke  is.  It's  a  friendly  valley.  .  .  . 
We  might  both  of  us  run  away  and  go  to  Wau 
wauzeke. 

RICHARD 

How  would  we  ever  get  there  ?  It's  a  long  way 
to  Wisconsin. 


ON  THE  PIER  75 

JESSICA 

My  wages — 

RICHARD 

Yes  they  look  big  when  you  haven't  had  a 
square  meal  for  several  days,  but  we  can't  live  on 
those  wages  forever. 

JESSICA 

Nobody  said  we  had  to.  You're  hungry  and 
it  makes  you  ugly.  Come,  where's  that  strength 
you  were  boasting  about?  I  can  teach  a  coun 
try  school  if  we  get  desperate. 

[She  makes  a  wry  face. 

RICHARD 

'I  can  clerk  in  a  country  store.     Ugh ! 

JESSICA 

There's  a  man  out  there  who  owns  a  store.  He 
offered  me  a  job  as  book-keeper  before  I  left. 
But  I  was  bound  to  go  to  the  city  and  go  on  the 
stage  and  do  something  decorative.  I  thought  if  I 
once  got  here  it  would  be  easy  enough.  For  they 
all  said  that  I  was  just  born  for  the  stage. 

RICHARD 
They — who — 


?6  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

JESSICA 

The  people  in  our  church. 

RICHARD 

Your  church — 

JESSICA 
Yes,  we  always  gave  our  shows  in  the  church. 

RICHARD 

What  a  queer  place.  Say — was  that  store 
keeper  in  love  with — 

JESSICA 

[Laughs.]  No  he  wasn't  in  love  with  me. 
He  is  just  one  of  those  simple  people  who  are  fool 
enough  to  love  everybody. 

RICHARD 
It  sounds  good. 

JESSICA 

It  is  good — it's  honest.  Wauwauzeke  doesn't 
shine  and  dazzle  like  New  York,  its  street  lamps 
smoke. 

RICHARD 

That  sounds  sort  of  dismal.  When  you  left  I 
suppose  you  were  feeling  pretty  sorry  for  Wau 
wauzeke. 


ON  THE  PIER  77 

JESSICA 

I  was,  and  they've  gone  on  living  just  the  same, 
clean  decent  lives  and  contented  and  happy. 

RICHARD 

Without  ever  thinking  they  were  any  better 
than  anybody  else. 

JESSICA 
They  don't  know  how  lucky  they  are. 

RICHARD 

Let's  go. 

JESSICA 

If  we  were  in  Wauwauzeke,  we'd  be  in  bed 
and  sound  asleep  by  nine  o'clock  and  all  the 
lights  out. 

RICHARD 

Except  the  smoky  street  lamps. 

JESSICA 

It's  nearly  midnight  now  and  just  look  at  New 
York. 

RICHARD 

No  signs  of  sleep  there. 

JESSICA 
No  it's  alive,  alive  every  minute  of  night  and 


78  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

day.     That's  what  I  like  about  it.     I  like  to  live 
in  a  place  where  people  are  doing  things. 

RICHARD 

And  Wauwauzeke  is  dead — 

JESSICA 

Worse  than  that,— it's  alive,  but  not  kicking. 
Most  of  the  people  don't  know  that  they  are  buried 
alive,  a  few  know  it  but  haven't  the  strength  to 
dig  out. 

RICHARD 

And  you  dug  out? 

JESSICA 

Yes — did  you  ever  lie  awake  at  night  and  try 
to  imagine  how  it  would  feel  to  be  buried  alive? 

RICHARD 

Oh  yes— horrible — 

JESSICA 
Well — Wauwauzeke  is  like  that. 

RICHARD 

Ugh,  I'd  rather  stay  here. 

JESSICA 
And  take  a  chance,  so  would  I. 


ON  THE  PIER  79 

RICHARD 

There  must  be  chances  in  such  a  big  city. 

JESSICA 

There  are.  We've  got  to  get  after  them,  that's 
all.  We've  got  to  take  jobs  we're  fitted  for  and 
not  try  to  do  things  we're  not  fitted  for. 

RICHARD 

Like  going  on  the  stage — 

JESSICA 
And  digging  in  ditches — 

RICHARD 

We'll  make  a  fresh  start. 

JESSICA 

On  another  tack. 

RICHARD 

Yes — together. 

JESSICA 

Together.  How  do  you  feel?  Can  you  move 
along  again?  [She  helps  him  up,  they  start  to 
go.  She  supports  him.]  We'll  get  some  supper 
and  then  you'll  be  all  right. 


8o  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

RICHARD 

{With  pride.}  I'll  be  just  as  strong  as  you 
are. 

JESSICA 
Stronger. 

RICHARD 

You're  great! 

JESSICA 

Thanks.  We'll  go  to  Childs  and  get  a  square 
meal  and  then  find  lodgings. 

RICHARD 
And  to-morrow — 

JESSICA 

We're  young  and  strong.  There's  some  one  in 
that  city  looking  for  us. 

RICHARD 

It's  lucky  you've  got  your  wages.  God — if 
they'd  let  a  fellow  earn  them  honest — it's  no  use — 
I  tell  you  it's  no  use — and  I'd  feel  poor  letting  you 
spend  your  wages  on  me. 

{Sinks  back  onto  the  bench. 

JESSICA 

Now  don't  begin  that  again.  Some  day  you 
may  have  to  spend  yours  on  me. 


ON  THE  PIER  81 

RICHARD 

I  would  if  I  could  ever  get  any.  God,  if  they'd 
let  a  fellow  earn  them  honest — It's  no  use — noth 
ing's  no  use. 

JESSICA 

Brace  up.  There's  nothing  to  worry  about. 
[Lifts  him  to  his  feet  with  effort.]  If  we  don't 
make  good,  we  can  always  go  to  Wauwauzeke. 

RICHARD 

Never.  Wauwauzeke — Christ — to  be  alive 
and  buried.  In  New  York  you  know  you're  alive 
all  right  even  though  you  suffer  like  hell.  [He 
catches  the  spirit  of  the  city.}  It's  great  to  be 
alive.  I'll  earn  a  living  some  way  or  they  can 
send  my  corpse  to  Wauwauzeke. 

JESSICA 

Good,  that  sounds  better.  Say,  isn't  it  swell 
me  treating  you  to  a  supper  at  Childs  at  midnight? 

RICHARD 

And  staking  me  for  a  night's  lodging.  This  is 
living ! 

JESSICA 

We  couldn't  do  it  in  Wauwauzeke.  It 
wouldn't  be  respectable.  What  is  your  name4? 


82  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

RICHARD 

Richard. 

JESSICA 

Richard.  My  name's  Jessie  in  Wauwauzeke, 
Jessica  in  New  York. 

RICHARD 

Jessie's  a  nice  name. 

JESSICA 

Take  care,  there's  a  loose  board,  don't  fall,  it's 
dark — but  if  we  once  get  over  this  bridge  we'll  be 
all  right. 

[They  go  off  towards  the  city. 


THE  SHADOW 

AN    ARABESQUE 

BY  HOWARD  MUMFORD  JONES 


TO 
JAMES  FINCH  ROYSTER 


THE  SHADOW  ELISOR 

THE  EMPEROR  HARLEQUIN 

OISILLE  HELENE 


THE  SHADOW 

A  forest  in  October.  The  hard  maples  which 
make  up  the  wood  blend  in  the  distance  until 
their  trunks  melt  into  a  single  violet  cloud. 
Their  foliage  is  golden,  with  a  mellow  and 
evanescent  glory  that  fills  the  stage  like  the 
memory  of  dead  kings.  The  floor  of  the  forest 
is  carpeted  with  fallen  leaves  which  rustle  aud 
ibly  if  anyone  walks  through  them;  from  time 
to  time  a  leaf  detaches  itself  from  a  branch  and 
falls  to  the  ground  where  its  brethren  bestir 
themselves  to  receive  it  with  a  sigh. 

The  stage  itself  represents  a  clearing  in  the  forest. 
To  the  right  and  back  there  rises  out  of  the  de 
caying  leaves  a  moss-covered  stone  platform 
that  once  supported  an  altar — probably  to  a 
woodland  god,  but  all  the  gods  are  dead  now 
and  it  does  not  matter.  Enough  of  the  altar 
remains,  however,  to  form  with  an  old  log  a 
weather-worn  rustic  seat.  To  the  left  a  single 
large  maple  lifts  its  trunk  heavenward  from 
87 


88  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

the  midst  of  the  clearing.     A  faint  smell  of 
decay. 

On  the  seat  to  the  right  there  sits  a  man.  That  is^ 
he  is  a  man  unless  the  midnight  splendours  of 
the  wood,  the  long  black  shadows  of  the  trees, 
and  the  memories  and  flowers  of  the  forest  have 
not  united  to  form  an  eidolon  in  the  semblance 
of  humanity.  Man  or  shadow,  he  is  long  and 
tall  and  thin,  dressed  entirely  in  black  (except 
for  his  white  stock)  in  the  costume  of  1830. 
His  hair  is  iron-grey;  his  face  is  worn,  with  two 
deep  wrinkles  across  the  high  white  forehead, 
and  two  more  on  either  side  of  the  mouth.  The 
eyes  are  large  and  dark  and  sombre,  except 
when  they  light  up  with  a  sudden  baffling  light. 
In  repose  the  face  is  sad,  save  that  it  wears  ha 
bitually  a  mood  of  light  mockery,  of  cynicism 
so  profound  it  can  afford  to  be  gentle.  Almost 
he  seems  to  leer.  He  is  leaning  forward  as  he 
sits,  his  chin  supported  by  one  white  hand,  gaz 
ing  ahead  of  him — at  nothing. 

For  a  long  time  nothing  happens,  so  that  those  for 
whom  this  play  is  not  intended  believe  that 
something  has  gone  wrong.  But  in  the  mean 
time  the  action  has  commenced.  Bit  by  bit 


THE  SHADOW  89 

the  voluptuous  silence  has  sunk  into  your  heart. 
The  odours  and  hints  of  dying  beauty  have 
begun  to  trouble  you  with  their  eerie  sadness. 
The  little  leaves  fall,  very  far  apart,  speaking 
slowly  some  secret  matter  as  they  fall.  A  faint 
breeze  stirs  the  branches. 

The  man — or  shadow — let  us  call  him  THE 
SHADOW — listens  abstractedly.  He  sighs  gen 
tly  and  straightens  up.  After  a  moment  he 
turns  Ms  head  curiously  to  the  left. 

A  girl  enters  from  behind  the  big  tree.  She  is 
slender  and  pretty  and  thoughtful.  Her  name 
is  OISILLE.  She  wears  a  light  blue  robe,  and  no 
hat.  She  walks  slowly  from  behind  the  tree  to 
the  centre  of  the  clearing;  apparently  she  never 
sees  THE  SHADOW  though  he  smiles  and  nods 
his  head  ever  so  slightly.  OISILLE  pauses  and 
looks  wistfully  back  into  the  forest. 

OISILLE 
[To  herself.}      I  wonder  .  .  . 

[THE  SHADOW  shakes  his  head  secretly. 

OISILLE 

[Half-aloud  and  argumentatively.}      I  wonder. 
.  .  .  They  told  me  it  would  be  wonderful,  but  it 


90  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

would  not  last.  That  is  what  the  old  woman  in 
the  forest  said,  and  the  others,  too.  .  .  .  But  he 
is  so  handsome  and  brave ! 

[She  turns  irresolutely  and  wanders  over  to 
the  tree,  on  the  trunk  of  which  she  puts  her 
hand.  There  is  a  rustle  in  the  leaves  to 
the  right,  and  OISILLE  and  THE  SHADOW 
turn  their  heads  inquiringly. 
[From  the  right  comes  a  little  dumpy  man  in 
a  torn,  white  toga  that  is  edged  with  two 
purple  stripes.  It  is  a  very  poor  toga,  in 
deed,  ragged  and  muddy  in  places,  but  it 
seems  to  afford  him  a  vast  amount  of  satis- 
faction.  On  his  head  there  is  a  gilt  crown. 
His  face  is  round  and  rather  vulgar,  with 
little  staring  eyes;  his  hands  are  freckled 
and  red,  and  he  gesticulates  awkwardly 
when  he  talks.  His  manner  is  grandilo 
quent  and  a  little  crazy,  and  yet  he  can  be 
humble,  too.  He  is  at  once  funny  and 
sad,  though  never  without  a  certain  dig 
nity.  He  is  THE  EMPEROR. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Without  offence.]     Hallo! 

OISILLE 

Oh! 


THE  SHADOW  91 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Anxiously.]  Have  you  seen  any  of  my  sol 
diers? 

OISILLE 

No,  I  do  not  think  I  have  seen  soldiers  of  any 
kind.  Are  you  looking  for  them? 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Sits  down  on  the  edge  of  the  plat  f  or  m,  with 
out  noticing  THE  SHADOW  who  watches  him 
keenly,  and  wipes  his  brow  with  a  convenient 
sleeve.}  Yes.  They  are  part  of  my  army,  you 
know.  [A  little  pompously.}  But  perhaps  you 
do  not  know.  I  am  an  emperor,  a  king.  Do  you 
know  what  that  is? 

OISILLE 
[Smiling.}     I  think  I  do. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[With  a  vaguely  explanatory  gesture.}  I — -I 
rule,  you  know.  I  sit  on  a  throne  and  people  bow 
before  they  talk  to  me.  At  least,  they  used  to 
bow.  But  I  find  that  an  emperor  is  no  good  with 
out  soldiers,  and  mine  are  always  disappearing. 
[Anxiously.}  Do  you  suppose  it  is  the  pay? 


92  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

OISILLE 

How  much  do  you  pay  them? 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Beckoning  her.]  Come  here.  What  is  your 
name? 

OISILLE 
[Approaching  him.}     My  name  is  Oisille. 

THE    EMPEROR 

Oisille.  O  yes.  Bend  down  your  head,  Oi 
sille.  [In  a  stage  whisper.}  The  truth  is — in 
the  matter  of  pay,  you  know — I  can't  find  my 
treasurer,  either.  [Aloud,  as  OISILLE  straightens 
up.}  It's  a  great  secret.  You  are  not  to  tell. 

OISILLE 

No. 

THE    EMPEROR 

He  went  away  about  a  year  ago.  Of  course  he 
had  the  money  for  the  imperial  army  at  the  time, 
so  you  see — 

THE    SHADOW 

[  Who  has  been  listening  with  a  faint,  mocking 
smile,  suddenly  Jeans  down  and  speaks  softly  in 
THE  EMPEROR'S  ear.}  Where  are  your  majesty's 
dominions? 


THE  SHADOW  93 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Looking  sharply  at  OISILLE.]  Eh?  Did 
you  say  something*? 

OISILLE 
No — your  majesty. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Complacently.]  That  is  right.  Always  say 
"your  majesty,"  my  dear.  I  thought  you  asked 
me  where  my  dominions  lay.  The  truth  is  that  I 
am  not  at  present  residing  in  the  ancestral  palace. 
I — I  prefer  an  open  life.  My  castle  is  just  now  in 
the  hands  of  another — temporarily,  only  tempo 
rarily.  You  understand.  I  am  engaged  in  a 
field  expedition — with  the  imperial  troops ! 

THE    SHADOW 

[As  before.}  And  what  is  the  name  of  your 
majesty's  realm? 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Petulantly,  to  OISILLE.]  I  wish  you  would 
speak  louder.  [He  gets  to  his  feet  and  speaks 
grandiloquently.]  My  country  is  the  land  east 
of  the  sun  and  west  of  the  moon,  and  my  title  is — 
[vacantly] — what  is  my  title? 


94  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

THE    SHADOW 

[Softly.}     Emperor  of  the  Seven  Stars? 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Majestically.}  I  am  His  Majesty  the  Em 
peror  of  the  Seven  Stars !  [Kindly.]  And  now 
that  you  know  who  I  am,  don't  be  the  least  afraid 
of  me.  Tell  me,  Oisille,  what  are  you  doing  here 
all  alone? 

OISILLE 

[Sadly  turning  away.]  Ah,  your  majesty,  I 
am — waiting. 

THE    EMPEROR 

Waiting?  Ah  yes.  For  a  young  man,  no 
doubt. 

OISILLE 
[Surprised.]     How  did  you  know? 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Complacently.]  Experience,  my  dear,  is  a 
great  teacher.  In  my  experience,  young  women 
— especially  young  women  of  your  beauty  [bow 
ing  fantastically]  are  always  waiting.  For 
young  men.  In  my  own  dominions — 

[Mysteriously. 


THE  SHADOW  95 

OISILLE 

[In  a  burst  of  confidence.}  O  I  do  not  know 
what  to  do!  Elisor  promised  to  meet  me  here, 
and — and  he  has  not  come!  Elisor  is  [embar 
rassed]  is — 

[THE  SHADOW  smiles  his  customary  smile, 

THE    EMPEROR 

Elisor  is  the  young  man,  my  dear.  He  is  de 
layed.  By  important  business.  As  a  young  man 
I  was  often — similarly  delayed.  My  wife  the 
late  empress — 

OISILLE 

I  do  not  fear.  He  will  come.  But —  O  I 
do  not  know  whether  I  want  him  to  come !  How 
shall  I  know?  How  shall  I  know? 

[THE  EMPEROR  frowns  and  scratches  his  ear 
sympathetically. 

OISILLE 

Tell  me,  tell  me,  you  are  old.  What  is  this 
thing  called  love?  Last  night  Elisor  told  me  he 
loved  me.  It  was  in  the  garden.  [Dreamily.] 
We  stood  by  the  white  wall  above  the  ghostly  sea, 
and  I  watched  a  sail  as  it  floated  away  into  the 
star-dust  of  the  night.  And  there  were  lilies,  and 


96  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

roses  in  the  moon.  The  air  was  heavy  with  the 
scent  of  the  roses.  And  on  Elisor's  lips  there  lay 
a  moonbeam  and — and  he  kissed  me  while  we 
stood  there  above  the  sea.  [Passionately.]  O 
how  shall  I  know?  How  shall  I  know?  Tell 
me,  what  is  love1? 

[THE  SHADOW  turns  with  evident  enjoyment 
of  the  situation  to  THE  EMPEROR. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Perplexed.}  Well,  my  dear,  I  should  say  that 
love — is — is  an  attraction  between  the  sexes,  or 
rather — not  merely  that,  of  course.  Love  is — 
well,  my  wife  the  late  empress  used  to  say  that 
love  was — 

OISILLE 

[Eagerly.]  Yes — she  must  have  known — she 
loved  you. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[  Uneasily.}  W-e-11 — at  least  she  said  she  did. 
She  used  to  say  that  love  was — was  [in  a  charac 
teristic  burst]  — was  a  terribly  uncertain  thing, 
my  dear. 

[THE  SHADOW  bursts  into  a  peal  of  silent 
laughter.  OISILLE  walks  away,  wringing 
her  hands. 


THE  SHADOW  97 

A  MAN'S  VOICE 
[Sings.} 

The  long  way  and  the  white  way, 
And  the  shadows  are  long  and  broad ! 

Through  wind  and  weather  we  ride  together, 
And  never  an  inn  on  the  road ! 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Starting  up.}  Eh — ?  Perhaps  that  is  your 
young  man,  my  dear.  [He  bows  majestically.'] 
Permit  me.  I  will  retire.  And  if  I  may  sug 
gest— 

OISILLE 

Yes? 

THE    EMPEROR 

It  is  essential — in  such  matters — to  remember 
that  young  men  will  be — [after  a  judicious  pause] 
young  men.  I  have  observed,  even  in  my  castle. 
Their  nature  is — 

[He  wags  a  finger  mysteriously  in  OISILLE'S 
face,  folds  his  toga  over  one  arm  and  walks 
magnificen  tly — left. 

[A  young  man  enters  from  the  left  at  the 
back.  This  is  ELISOR.  Simple  and 
straightforward.  He  is  ruddy  of  face, 


98  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

square  of  shoulder  and  strong  of  limb. 
ELISOR  is  dressed  in  a  brown  hunting  cos 
tume,  -with  a  brown  hat  (of  course  there  is 
a  feather  in  it)  on  the  back  of  his  curly 
brown  hair.  He  stops,  stares  at  THE  EM 
PEROR,  and  bursts  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

OISILLE 
[Running  to  him.  ]     Elisor ! 

ELISOR 
Ha-ha-ha !     Who  in  the  world  is  that? 

OISILLE 

[Hurriedly.  ]      I  do  not  know,  I  do  not  know. 
It  does  not  matter.     O  Elisor — ! 

[She  is  in  his  arms — where  she  ought  to  be. 

ELISOR 

[Tenderly.]     Oisille! 

[He  tilts  her  head  back  and  kisses  her. 

OISILLE 

[Who  has  been  clinging  to  him  passionately, 
shudders  a  little  and  breaks  away  with  a  convul 
sive  gesture.}  No,  no!  ...  Do  not  kiss  me,  do 
not  kiss  me.  We  must  not. 


THE  SHADOW  99 

ELISOR 

[Confronted  by  the  inexplicableness  of  girls, 
patiently.}  We  must  not — what4?  And  why? 

OISILLE 

[  With  her  back  to  him,  facing  the  stone  plat 
form.}  We  must  not — /  must  not.  Last  night 
— by  the  white  wall  above  the  sea — No,  no  ... 

ELISOR 

[Anxiously.}  Why?  What  is  wrong? 
Don't  you  love  me  any  more? 

OISILLE 

[Partly  turning.}  Yes — no — yes.  I  love 
you !  I  love  you ! 

ELISOR 

[Going  to  her.}  Then  everything  is  all  right. 
Kiss  me ! — How  pretty  you  are ! 

OISILLE 

[Avoiding  him,  passionately.}  No,  no!  It  is 
not  right.  It  should  be  wonderful,  and  now — 

ELISOR 
[Hurt.}     But  I  do  not  see — 

[THE  SHADOW  who  has  been  listening,  sadly 


ioo  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

shakes  his  head  and  sighs  ruefully  as  one 
who  has  seen  many  lovers  and  heard  the 
same  story  many  times. 

OISILLE 

[Tragically,  her  eyes  big  and  wide.}  You  do 
not  sec  ...  you  do  not  see ! 

ELISOR 

[Simply.}  I  love  you — you  love  me.  What 
is  there  else  *? 

OISILLE 

[Almost  inaudibly.}  Last  night  ...  in  the 
white  garden  .  .  .  when  you  kissed  me,  it  was  as 
if  I  heard  clarions  far  away.  And  great  battle 
ments  shone,  all  of  rose,  and  there  were  men  and 
women  on  them,  going  up  and  down.  And  you 
and  I — 

ELISOR 

[Breathlessly.}     Yes,  yes. 

OISILLE 

And  you  and  I — O  Elisor !  It  was  like  an  or 
gan  at  twilight  in  the  green  woods.  But  today — 

[She  stands  staring. 

ELISOR 

[Simply.}     To-day — don't  you  love  me? 


THE  SHADOW  101 

OISILLE 

Yes,  but  [quite  simply}  when  you  kissed  me, 
there  were  no  clarions. 

[THE  SHADOW  hides  his  face  in  his  hands. 

ELISOR 

[Honestly  puzzled. ]      But  I  do  not  understand. 
What  has  that  to  do  with  us? 

OISILLE 
[Incredulously.]     O  don't  you  see? 

ELISOR 

[Stubbornly.]      I    see    nothing.     Either    you 
love  me,  or  you  do  not. 

OISILLE 

[Kindly.]     No,   Elisor,   that  is  not  it.     We 
must — we  must — what  must  we  do? 

[ELISOR  stands  looking  at  her. 

OISILLE 
We  must  find  out  what  love  is. 

ELISOR 

[Desperately   and   out   of   patience.]     But   I 
know  what  love  is. 

[THE  SHADOW  looks  up  sharply. 


102  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

OISILLE 

What  is  love  9 

ELISOR 

Love  is — it  is — when  you  love  some  one  as  I 
love  you,  it  is — O  I  can  not  say  it,  but  I  know,  I 
know! 

OISILLE 
You  see !  we  do  not  know.     We  must  find  out, 

THE    SHADQW 

[Half-rising,  in  terror.]     No,  no,  no ! 

OISILLE 

[Turning,  puzzled.]     Did  you  hear  some  one*? 

ELISOR 

[Listening.]  No,  I  do  not  think  so.  .  .  .  But, 
Oisille,  I— I— 

[He  gives  up  the  struggle  for  expression  with 
an  odd  little  gesture  of  pain. 

OISILLE 
[Patiently.  ]     What  is  it,  Elisor  ? 

ELISOR 

I  do  not  understand  all  this.  Last  night  you 
loved  me — you  kissed  me  by  the  white  wall  over 


THE  SHADOW  103 

the  sea.  And  to-day — [bewildered] — everything 
is  different,  and  you  will  not  kiss  me.  But  truly 
[naively]  Oisille,  I  truly  love  you — very  much. 

OISILLE 

[Smiles  wanly.]  Listen  to  me,  Elisor.  It  is 
true  I  kissed  you  last  night  and  that  I  love  you — 
[Repulsing  him.]  No,  no! — But  to-day,  as  you 
say,  everything  is  different.  That  is  what 
troubles  me.  To-day  there  is  no  moon.  Before 
you  kiss  me  again,  I  must  know  what  love  is,  and 
where  the  sound  of  the  clarions  has  gone,  and  why 
it  is  that  to-day  there  came  no  glory  across  the  sea. 
We  must  know  what  this  thing  is  which  men  call 
love  that  changes  so.  We  must  ask  people  who 
are  wiser  than  we,  in  order  that — that  we  may  act 
wisely,  too. 

ELISOR 

[Dolefully.]  Very  well.  .  .  .  [Stubbornly.] 
But  nevertheless  I  know.  .  .  .' 

OISILLE 

[Wisely.]  No.  We  have  seen  that  you  could 
not  tell  me.  We  must  find  out.  Let  us  search. 

ELISOR 

[Mechanically.]     Let  us  search4? 


104  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

OISILLE 

Yes,  we  must  find  out  what  love  is.  I  will  go 
to  the  old  woman  I  met  in  the  forest  when  I  came 
this  way.  She  is  very  old  and  wise  and  she  will 
surely  know.  When  she  has  told  me,  I  will  re 
turn.  .  .  .  And  you,  Elisor,  you  must  promise  to 
wait  for  me  meanwhile. 

ELISOR 

Are  you  really  going?  [Piteously.]  Won't 
you  kiss  me  before  you  go? 

OISILLE 

[Bravely.]  No,  Elisor,  it  would  not  be  right. 
.  .  .  I  will  come  back  very  soon.  .  .  .  But  you 
have  not  promised.  You  will  wait  for  me? 

ELISOR 
[Dully.}     Yes.  .  .  .  I  will  wait  for  you. 

[  A  slight  pause. 

OISILLE 
Good-bye,  Elisor. 

ELISOR 

Good-bye.  [OISILLE  goes  out  left. 

[ELISOR  stands  watching  her,  then  sinks  mis 
erably  upon  the  stone  platform  and  buries 


THE  SHADOW  105 

his  face  in  his  hands.  THE  SHADOW,  who 
has  been  unobtrusively  following  the  dia 
log,  stoops  over  him  and  is  about  to  place 
his  hand  on  ELISOR'S  shoulder  when  he 
thinks  better  of  it.  Is  it  because  his  Touch 
would  change-  the  boy?  At  any  rate  he 
shakes  his  head  mournfully  and  does  not 
speak.  ELISOR  sits  huddled  there  for  a 
long  time  while  THE  SHADOW  watches 
him. 

[There  is  a  great  rustling  of  the  leaves  at  the 
back  of  the  stage.  THE  SHADOW  looks 
around.  A  HARLEQUIN  dances  in  from 
the  back,  kicking  the  golden  leaves  about 
him  in  a  whorl.  He  stops  his  gyrations 
only  upon  sight  of  ELISOR,  at  whom  he 
stands  staring  while  you  look  at  him. 

[Surely  there  is  no  need  to  describe  HARLE 
QUIN.  In  the  costume  he  is  wearing  now, 
he  has  whirled  through  a  thousand  dances, 
and  a  thousand  times  kissed  the  tips  of 
white  fingers,  silvered  by  the  moon..  Long 
ago  under  his  grotesque  garments  his  heart 
was  broken  as  a  lute-string  snaps,  so  that 
only  a  weary,  jarring  echo,  like  the  fra 
grance  of  old  wine,  stirs  in  it  now.  And 


io6  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

his  voice,  which  has  sung  a  thousand  chan 
sons,  is  not  so  young  as  it  was;  sometimes 
it  quavers  on  the  high  notes,  and  at  the 
corners  of  his  black  mask  you  can  see  little 
knots  of  fine  wrinkles  about  his  eyes. 
Still  he  is  a  very  good  Harlequin  as  Harle 
quins  go  in  this  life,  with  his  green  and 
white  suit,  his  bladder  with  which  he 
strikes  fantastically  at  the  shadows,  and 
the  leaf  that  somehow  clings  in  all  his 
gyrations  to  his  tight  black  cap.  By  and 
by  he  speaks. 

HARLEQUIN 

I  say! 

[ELISOR  looks  up  slowly. 

HARLEQUIN 

Who  are  you?     And  what's  the  matter4? 

[He  gives  a  skip  or  two,  shaking  his  bladder 
as  he  does  so. 

ELISOR 

I  am  Elisor.     It  is  Oisille — she  -has  gone  away. 

HARLEQUIN 

Well — what  of  that? 


THE  SHADOW  107 

ELISOR 

You  don't  understand.  Oisille  is  the — I  love 
Oisille,  and  she  has  gone  away. 

HARLEQUIN 

[Dismissing  the  matter.'}  Oh.  .  .  .  Go  after 
her  then. 

[He  whirls   himself  about   the  stage^   and 
stops. 

ELISOR 

Shall  I?  ...  No,  I  have  promised  to  wait  for 
her. 

HARLEQUIN 

[S  far  ing.]  Promise?  What  is  a  promise1? 
I  have  made  a  thousand  promises,  and  yet — here 
I  am. 

ELISOR 

No,  I  will  stay  here.  If  I  were  to  follow  her 
she  would  not  like  it. 

HARLEQUIN 

Pray,  what  difference  does  that  make? 

ELISOR 
Surely   you   would   not   want   me   to   disobey 

Oisille. 


io8  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

HARLEQUIN 

[Playing  with  his  bladder.]  All  I  say  is,  it's 
none  of  my  business.  But  if  my  sweetheart  does 
not  let  me  do  as  I  please,  I  very  soon  find  someone 
else. 

ELISOR 

[Astounded.]      Find  someone  else ! 

HARLEQUIN 

Yes.  Get  someone  else.  That  is  what  I  al 
ways  do.  ...  There  are  many  girls.  When  one 
proves  unreasonable — try  another. 

ELISOR 
[Horror-stricken.]     Never,  never,  never! 

HARLEQUIN 

[Dancing  with  his  own  shadow\  cheerfully] 
Very  well,  then  don't.  But  that  is  what  /  always 
do.  [He  sings.] 

Pierrot,  le  bon,  .  .  . 

II  faut  qitil  s'en  ira, 

Parceque  la  Columbine  est  morte.  .  .  . 
Ugh !     I  do  not  like  that  song ! 

ELISOR 
Have  you  ever  been  in  love? 


THE  SHADOW  109 

HARLEQUIN 

[Laughing.]  Have  I  ever  been  in  love? 
Well,  I  should  think  I  have.  About  a  thousand 
times.  I  am  Harlequin.  I  am  always  in  love. 

ELISOR 

[Pondering  the  matter.}  Always  in  love? 
Do  you  mean  that  you  love — different  people? 

HARLEQUIN 

[Staring.  ]  Well, —  I  —  should  —  hope  —  so ! 
[Proudly.]  I  have  already  kissed  one  hundred 
and  thirty-two  girls — not  to  speak  of  the  married 
women ! 

ELISOR 

But — but  I  thought  that  one  fell  in  love  with 
only  one  person,  and  that  it  lasted  forever. 

HARLEQUIN 

[Scornfully.]  Only  the  very  young  think 
that!  [When  he  sees  ELISOR'S  face  he  stops  his 
antics  to  argue  the  case.}  My  dear  fellow,  I  once 
thought  as  you  seem  to  think,  but  I  very  soon  be 
came  wiser.  Eventually  one  grows  tired.  Then 
it  is  better  to  part  at  once,  and  without  regret,  and 
to  look  elsewhere — on  both  sides.  Besides,  what 
does  it  matter  whose  lips  you  kiss,  provided  they 


no  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

are  sweet,  or  whether  the  eyes  are  blue  or  brown, 
if  only  the  face  is  pretty?  At  least,  that's  my 
idea!  [He  whirls  off  again. 

ELISOR 

Oh.  .  .  .  You  say  you  are  wiser  now. 

HARLEQUIN 

[Breathlessly.]      Of  course  I  am  wiser! 

ELISOR 

[Awkwardly.}  Then  I  will  ask  you.  Tell 
me,  when  you — you  kiss,  how  does  it  feel  ? 

HARLEQUIN 

[Patronizingly.}  How  does  it  feel?  Why,  it 
feels  very  jolly,  to  be  sure!  Haven't  you  ever 
kissed  a  girl  ? 

ELISOR 

But  the  first  time — and  after  that.  Was  it  like 
clarions  blowing,  and  a  great  organ,  and  a  glory 
on  the  sea? 

HARLEQUIN 

[Shuddering.}  The  first  time!  Ah,  why  do 
you  speak  of  such  things !  [Bitterly.}  The  first 
time! — I — I  do  not  know.  It  was  so  long  ago. 
I  have  forgotten. 


THE  SHADOW  111 

ELISOR 

But  the  clarions — now.  Do  you  hear  them 
blowing  far  away  whenever  you  kiss*? 

HARLEQUIN 

[Vacantly.]  No — I  have  never  heard  any 
such  instruments,  [politely]  except  possibly  the 
first  time,  and  that,  as  I  say,  I  have  forgotten.  I 
daresay  some  people  may  hear  such  things,  though 
it  sounds  extremely  foolish. 

ELISOR 

[Thoughtfully.]  No  clarions.  .  .  .  But — 
you  say  that  in  love  you  are  very  wise6? 

HARLEQUIN 

[Recovering  his  former  gaiety.]  I  should 
think  so !  Think  of  it !  A  hundred  and  thirty- 
two  girls  already.  At  a  low  estimate,  that's  at 
least  a  thousand,  three  hundred  and  twenty  kisses, 
and  I  am  still  comparatively  young.  And  that 
doesn't  count  in  the  married  ones,  either.  Love? 
I  know  all  there  is  to  know  on  the  subject. 

ELISOR 

[Timidly.]     Tell  me,  then,  what  is  love? 
[HARLEQUIN  does  not  answer  except  by  a 


112  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

great  peal  of  laughter,  after  which  he  darts 
again  about  the  stage. 

ELISOR 

[To  himself.}  A  hundred  and  thirty-two  .  .  . 
and  no  clarions.  Oh!  Oh!  .  .  .  [Rising.}  I 
must  tell  Oisille.  I  am  going  to  find  Oisille.  .  .  . 

HARLEQUIN 

Humph !     Is  she  pretty^ 

[ELISOR  does  not  hear  him,  however •,  for  he 
has  rushed  away  to  the  left. 

HARLEQUIN 

If  she  is  pretty,  I  might  myself  be  interested. 

[He  amuses  himself  by  scattering  the  leaves 
about. 

THE    SHADOW 

[Suddenly  emerging  from  the  obscurity  at  the 
back  of  the  plat f or m,  whither  he  retired  when 
HARLEQUIN  came  in.  ]  Harlequin ! 

HARLEQUIN 

[Stopping  short  and  wheeling  to  face  THE 
SHADOW.]  Eh? 

THE    SHADOW 

[Quietly.}     Haven't  we  met  before*? 


THE  SHADOW  113 

HARLEQUIN 

[His  face  turns  white,  his  bladder  falls  from  his 
nerveless  hand,  and  he  seems  suddenly  to  shrink, 
so  that  his  clothes  are  too  large  for  him.]  You? 
.  .  .  You?  .  .  . 

[  With  a  shriek  he  flings  up  both  his  arms  and 

flees  into  the  woods  at  the  right. 
[THE  SHADOW  descends  from  the  platform 
and  picks  up  HARLEQUIN'S  bladder  which 
he  carries  in  his  hands  as  he  wanders  un 
certainly  about  the  stage.  Once  he  ap 
pears  to  follow  ELISOR  as  if  to  call  him 
back,  but  he  changes  his  mind.  By  and  by 
he  returns  to  his  seat. 

[A  woman  enters  slowly  from  the  right. 
She  is  old  enough  to  be  peering  wistfully 
into  the  distance  where  for  her  youth  and 
love  have  vanished  forever,  and  yet  young 
enough  not  to  have  attained  the  bitter  wis 
dom  of  the  old.,  Her  hair  was  golden,  and 
is  now  a  bit  untidy;  it  is  arranged  in  a  knot 
at  the  back  of  her  head.  Her  face  which 
was  in  the  old  days  stately  and  superb,  is 
drawn  and  a  little  fretful;  and  her  hands 
unconsciously  clasp  themselves  from  time 
to  time  in  the  patient  manner  of  those  who 


114  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

have  ceased  to  protest.  Whenever  she 
catches  herself  in  this  posture,  she  hur 
riedly  unclasps  them  again.  She  is 
clothed  in  a  long,  black  gown,  high-gir 
dled,  with  a  suggestion  of  the  antique  that 
sets  off  the  faded  splendour  of  her  face. 
Her  name  is  HELENE. 

[THE  SHADOW,  as  soon  as  he  sees  her,  rises 
and  bows  very  respectfully. 

HELENE 

You?  .  .  .  what  are  you  doing  here1? 

THE    SHADOW 

I?     Watching  the  world  go  by — as  always. 

HELENE 

[With  a  little,  bitter  laugh.]  The  world? 
Here?  [She  indicates  with  a  gesture  the  unprom 
ising  woods,  then  sighs  and  speaks  half  to  herself .] 
And  yet — I  suppose,  even  here.  .  .  .  But  why? 
[To  THE  SHADOW.]  The  truth  is,  my  friend,  I 
am  not  exactly  pleased  to  see  you. 

THE    SHADOW 

[Deprecatingly.[  O  madame!  You  are 
cruel ! 


THE  SHADOW  115 

HELENE 

It  is,  however,  the  truth.  [She  walks  slowly 
away  from  him,  then  turns. ~\  Surely  we  can  be 
frank.  .  .  .  Wherever  I  go,  it  seems  to  me,  there 
you  have  gone  before  me.  You  began  by  coming 
uninvited  to  my  wedding,  and  you  called  persist 
ently  at  my  house  ever  after.  And  everywhere 
— at  entertainments,  at  balls,  at  dinners,  at  the  op 
era — it  is  you,  eternally  you.  Moreover,  you  are 
not  the  most  entertaining  man  in  the  world. 
[THE  SHADOW  gestures  in  protest.']  Now  to-day 
when  the  mood  is  upon  me  to  be  alone,  and  I  come 
to  these  woods,  behold  here  are  you — the  ubiqui 
tous,  the  incessant,  the  diabolical  you.  O  it  is 
indelicate — positively  indelicate!  And — [child 
ishly} — I  wanted  so  much  to  be  alone — and 
dream. 

THE    SHADOW 

[After  a  silence,  half -aloud.]  To  dream  .  .  . 
ah,  ah!  .  .  .  At  our  ages  we  can  not  afford  to 
dream.  .  .  . 

HELENE 

[Almost  crying.]  Now  it  is  you  who  are  cruel. 
.  .  .  Tell  me,  why  do  you  haunt  me4?  What  are 
you  doing  here4?  What  do  you  want  in  this  silent 


ii6  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

forest  that  is — or  should  be — peopled  only  by 
shadows  and  the  memories  of  old  days? 

THE    SHADOW 

[  Wearily.]  Shadows — I  am  myself  a  shadow, 
I  think,  and — you  seem  to  remember  me  very  well. 
[He  changes  his  tone  and  settles  back  in  his  seat.} 
But  come.  We  must  not  quarrel.  ...  I  have 
been  amusing  myself. 

HELENE 

And  how"? 

THE    SHADOW 

[Laughing.}  Ah,  all  our  old  friends  come 
here.  To-day  there  came  that  old  fool  who  calls 
himself  an  emperor — and  [watching  her  closely} 
Harlequin —  [HELENE  winces  ever  so  little} 
Also  two  young  idiots  who  imagine  themselves  in 
love  with  each  other.  The  girl  is  Oisille,  I  be 
lieve,  and  the  boy,  Elisor.  I  have  been  vastly  en 
tertained.  The  boy  promised  to  wait  here  for  her, 
but  about  ten  minutes  ago,  he  rushed  off. 

HELENE 

And  I  suppose  you  have — Oh  is  there  nothing 
with  which  you  do  not  meddle? 


THE  SHADOW  117 

THE    SHADOW 

[Perceptibly  hurt.}  But  I  have  done  nothing, 
Helene,  absolutely  nothing.  I  have  merely 
looked  on. 

HELENE 

[Sardonically.]  I  understand.  In  my  own 
case  that  was  sufficient. 

THE    SHADOW 

[Reproachfully.}  How  can  you,  my  friend4? 
You  know  very  well — 

HELENE 

[Wearily. "\  Yes,  I  know — I  know  too  many 
things  very  well. 

THE    SHADOW 

You  shall  judge  for  yourself.  Here  is  the 
young  lady  now. 

[OISILLE  enters  from  the  left.  HELENE 
turns.  THE  SHADOW  melts  into  the  back 
ground. 

OISILLE 

Elisor!  Elisor!  .  .  .  [She  stares  about  her.] 
Where  is  Elisor  ?  .  .  .  O  he  is  not  gone ! 

HELENE 

Elisor^     And  who  is  Elisor*? 


M  8  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

OISILLE 

Elisor  is — O  say  he  is  here !     Say  he  is  here ! 

HELENE 

I  have  seen  no  one  by  that  name. 

OISILLE 

[Weeping.}  No,  no  .  .  .  Do  not  say  it  .  .  . 
do  not  say  it.  O  he  promised,  and  now  he  is  gone. 
Oh,  oh.  .  .  . 

HELENE 

[Soothing  her.}  Who  is  Elisor,  and  what  did 
he  promise,  and  what  is  it  you  are  so  troubled 
about? 

OISILLE 

[Not  heeding  her.}  It  is  what  the  old  woman 
said,  and  I  would  not  believe  her.  ...  I  said  he 
would  be  here  .  .  .  and  now  he  is  gone ! 

[THE  SHADOW  sighs  audibly,  with  almost  a 
humorous  tone. 

HELENE 

[Glances  quickly  up  at  him.  then  turns  to 
OISILLE  and  puts  a  hand  on  her  shoulder.}  I  do 
not  understand.  What  is  the  matter? 

OISILLE 
The  old  woman  in  the  forest.          ,  Elisor  was 


THE  SHADOW  119 

to  wait  for  me.  ...  I  asked  her  what  love  is,  and 
she  would  not  tell  me.  She  only  smiled  strangely, 
and  shook  her  head. 

HELENE 

[Encouragingly.}  And  when  you  came 
back—? 

OISILLE 

[Shaking  her  head  and  walking  away.]  No — 
that  is  not  it.  It  is  that  I  knew  the  truth  all  this 
time  and  would  not  believe  it. 

THE    SHADOW 

[Approaching  nearer  and  speaking  softly  to 
HELENE.]  You  see!  I  have  done  nothing. 

HELENE 

[Rapidly.}     It  is  sufficient  that  you  were  here. 
[She  turns  again  to  OISILLE. 

OISILLE 

[Staring  miserably  before  her.}  For  when  she 
would  not  tell  and  smiled  so  strangely,  I  grew 
angry  with  her  and  I  said — oh  ...  oh !  I  said  I 
did  not  need  her  wisdom,  and  that  I  knew  already 
what  love  was,  and  that  Elisor  loved  me.  [  With 
a  swift  look  at  HELENE.]  That  was  what  Elisor 
said,  too.  ...  It  is  strange.  .  .  .  Then  she 


120  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

laughed — a  laugh  that  was  stranger  than  her  smile 
and  when  I  asked  her  what  she  meant  by  laughing 
so,  she  bade  me  go  back  and  find  Elisor :  she  said 
he  would  not  be  here  when  I  came  and  that  I  would 
then  know  what  love  is.  But  I  was  very  proud 
and  ran  back  to  prove  that  she  was  wrong,  and 
now — now.  .  .  .  Why  could  not  Elisor  have 
waited  for  me? 

[She  turns  aivay  toward  the  tree.  THE 
SHADOW  resumes  his  old  seat,  smiling  his 
peculiar  smile.  HELENE  'fays  no  atten 
tion  to  him. 

HELENE 

Elisor  is  then  your  lover?  .  .  .  Why  did  you 
leave  him? 

OISILLE 

I  have  told  you.     I  went  to  find  out  what  love 
is,  that  we  might  do  nothing  unwisely,  he  and  I. 

HELENE 

You    went    away?     Of    your    own    accord? 
That  was  very  foolish. 

OISILLE 

[Turning  to  her,  wide-eyed.}     What  do  you 
mean?     He  promised  he  would  wait  for  me. 


THE  SHADOW  121 

HELENE 

Yes,  I  know.  That  is  what  my  own  lover  told 
me  once.  .  .  .  But  it  was  nevertheless  foolish — 
very  foolish.  .  .  . 

[THE   SHADOW   chuckles  and  becomes  in 
stantly  grave  ^HELENE  turns  to  him. 

OISILLE 

But  why*? 

HELENE 

One  should  never  leave  one's  lover — even  for 
a  moment. 

OISILLE 
How  do  you  know*? 

[HELENE  is  silent. 

THE    SHADOW 

[Leaning  forward,  softly  to  HELENE.]  Why, 
my  friend,  do  you  not  answer  the  young  woman  ? 

OISILLE 
You  have  been  in  love? 

HELENE 

Yes.  .  .  .   [reluctantly.}     Many  times. 

OISILLE 
Many  times? 


122  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

THE    SHADOW 

[Echoing  the  phrase  like  a  broken  bell.} 
Many  times.  .  .  .  he !  he !  he ! 

OISILLE 

[Looking  frightened.  ]  But  Elisor  told  me  that 
he  loved  only  me,  and  that  he  would  always  love 
me. 

HELENE 

Yes.  Doubtless  it  was  moonlight  too.  Doubt 
less  there  was  a  scent  of  roses  in  the  air. 

OISILLE 

[More  and  more  frightened.}  How  do  you 
know*?  How  do  you  know*? 

HELENE 

[Heedless.}  Doubtless  also  he  told  you  that 
he  had  never  kissed  any  one  else — and  then  he 
kissed  you.  I  know. 

OISILLE 

[Suddenly,  with  a  great  light  in  her  eyes,  and 
the  cry  of  one  facing  the  truth.}  The  old  woman 
would  not  tell  me,  but  you  will  know.  What 
is  this  thing  called  love? 


THE  SHADOW  123 

HELENE 

[As  she  speaks  becomes  more  and  more  impas 
sioned  and  bitter.]  My  child,  it  is  something  bet 
ter  left  alone.  It  is  a  strange  delusion  that  seizes 
upon  us  from  time  to  time,  to  the  delicate  sound  of 
flutes  and  the  scent  of  flowers  and  the  hot  per 
fumes  of  kisses  that  are  forgotten  by  day.  It  is 
a  nothing  that  nevertheless  scars  the  soul.  It  is  a 
great  weariness  masked  as  a  great  delight.  [Pas 
sionately.  ]  Look  at  me.  ...  I  have  paid  dearly 
with  my  innocence  for  experience.  I  have  known 
men.  [OISILLE  shrinks  away,  frightened.} 
And  each  in  his  turn  promised  to  wait  for  me  here 
or  at  some  other  place,  and  each  in  his  turn  was 
either  late  in  arriving  or  never  came  at  all.  Look 
at  me!  I  am  what  love  is  ...  a  great  joy  that 
fades  in  the  morning  to  bitterness,  and  hunger, 
and  regret.  Oh  .  .  .  [Turning  to  THE  SHADOW 
and  speaking  fiercely}  this  is  what  you  have  made 
of  me!  I  came  to  this  wood  of  many  memories 
to  dream  that  the  world  is  other  than  it  is,  and 
that  it  was  not  morning — to  dream  of  my  lovers 
.  .  .  Harlequin,  if  you  must  know,  and  this  is 
what  you  have  caused  me  to  see — this !  [She  in 
dicates  OISILLE  who  has  sunk  down  on  the  stone 
platform  at  THE  SHADOW'S  feet.}  The  same 


124  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

story,  the  same  disillusionment,  and  the  same  re 
gret  !  Can  you  not  take  your  presence  elsewhere? 
Must  we  spend  all  our  lives  under  your  shadow? 
Must  everything  be  corroded  because  you  are  near? 
Do  you  always  rust  the  heart? 

[HELENE  stands  accusingly.  By  and  by  her 
arm  sinks  wearily  to  her  side,  her  hands 
fold  themselves  together  and  her  head 
falls  upon  her  breast.  THE  SHADOW  has 
sunk  into  his  seat,  staring  at  her.  A  long 
silence.  Then  he  rouses  himself,  half 
rises,  and  begins  to  speak. 

THE    SHADOW 

You  are  unfair.     I  am  only  a  ... 

[ELISOR  comes  in  at  the  left  hurriedly,  and 
stops  short. 

ELISOR 

Oisille! 

[HELENE  turns  and  walks  slowly  to  the  right 
of  the  platform.  OISILLE  looks  up,  then 
springs  to  her  feet,  her  back  to  THE 
SHADOW. 

OISILLE 
[As   ELISOR  advances.}     Do  not  come  near 

me! 


THE  SHADOW  125 

ELISOR 

[Stopping  short.}  But  I — I  did  not  mean  to 
go  away.  I  went  to  find  you. 

[OISILLE  slowly  shakes  her  head.     Her  eyes 
are  very  clear. 

THE    SHADOW 

[To  HELENE.]     You  have  said  too  much. 

HELENE 

No! 

ELISOR 

Oisille! 

OISILLE 

[Quietly.]     Where  have  you  been  this  while? 

ELISOR 

I — I  have  been  looking  for  you.  [He  catches 
the  look  in  OISILLE'S  eye.}  Truly,  I  have.  A 
Harlequin  came  while  you  were  gone  .  .  . 

HELENE 

[Sharply.]     Where  did  he  go? 

ELISOR 

I  do  not  know.  But  afterwards  I  saw  him  run 
ning  away,  very  much  frightened,  and  sobbing. 
[To  OISILLE.]  Who  is  that? 


126  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

OISILLE 

I  do  not  know.  It  does  not  matter.  Why  did 
you  go  away? 

ELISOR 

I  have  told  you.  ...  A  Harlequin  came  who 
had  been  in  love  a  great  number  of  times  .  .  . 

HELENE 

Ah! 

THE    SHADOW 

[To  HELENE.]      It  was  I  who  sent  him  away. 

ELISOR 

And  he  told  me — what  love  is,  and — and  you 
were  quite  wrong  about  the  clarions  and  the  rest. 

OISILLE 

[Eagerly.]     Why  was  I  wrong? 

• 

ELISOR 

The  Harlequin  said  he  had  kissed  a  great  num 
ber  of  girls,  and  he  had  never  experienced  any 
such  happening — except,  perhaps,  the  first  time, 
and  that  he  had  forgotten. 

HELENE 

[Going  up  to  OISILLE.]  What  clarions  does 
he  mean*? 


THE  SHADOW  127 

OISILLE 

[Vaguely.]     Last   night  ...  in   the   garden 
.  .  .  Elisor  kissed  me  ... 

HELENE 

[Piteously.]     Oh !  [She  turns  back  again. 

THE    SHADOW 

[Mockingly.]  At  our  ages — it  is  unwise  to 
dream. 

OISILLE 

[With  her  former  directness.}  And  you  have 
been  looking  for  me  all  this  time? 

ELISOR 

Yes — except —  [confusedly}  that  is,  I  met  with 
that  funny  old  man  who  calls  himself  an  emperor, 
anc[  I — I  stopped  to  talk  with  him.  But 
[naively}  it  was  only  a  very  little  while. 


OISILLE 


[Sadly.}     And  you  promised  .  .  . 

ELISOR 

I  know — I  remembered  just  now  and  hurried 
back.  ...  I  am  sorry. 

OISILLE 
Only  just  now?  [She  murmurs  this. 


128  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

ELISOR 

I  am  sorry. 

[OISILLE  is  silent. 
ELISOR 

[In  a  desperate  effort.]     Did  you  find  her. 
.  .  .  And  will  you  kiss  me  now? 

OISILLE 

I  found  the  old  woman,  but  she  would  not  tell 
me  what  I  wished  to  know. 

ELISOR 
Then  you  won't  kiss  me? 

OISILLE 

No — not  now,  or  ever. 

ELISOR 
Never? 

OISILLE 

No.     I  have  learned  now  what  love  is. 

ELISOR 
Did  the  old  woman  tell  you? 

OISILLE 
No. 


THE  SHADOW  129 

ELISOR 

Was  it  this  woman  ^ 

OISILLE 
No.     You  have  told  me  what  it  is  yourself. 

ELISOR 

[Bewildered.]  But  you  said — you  said  that  I 
could  not  tell  you. 

OISILLE 

That  is  true.  But  the  old  woman  said  that 
you  would  not  be  waiting  here  when  I  returned 
and  that  then  I  would  know  what  love  is. 

ELISOR 
\Eliptic all y.\     But  I  went  to  find  you! 

OISILLE 

Yes.  [Quietly  scornful."]  After  you  had 
stopped  to  talk  with  your  emperor.  You  have 
only  now  come  back. 

[ELISOR  hangs  'his  head. 

HELENE 

[Much  moved.}  You  had  better  forgive  him 
and  forget  all  that  I  said. 

OISILLE 
No,  it  is  not  that. 


130  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

ELISOR 

Then — then — you  don't  love  me  any  more? 

OISILLE 
It  is  not  that,  either. 

[Silence 

ELISOR 

[A  great  light  breaks  upon  him.}  I  know.  It 
is  the  clarions.  .  .  .  But  what  can  I  do?  I  heard 
none.  And  the  Harlequin  said  the  same  thing. 
He  heard  none  either. 

[There  is  a  faint  jingle  of  spears  to  the 
right. 

OISILLE 

[Simply,  turning  so  that  she  faces  both  HELENE 
and  ELISOR.  To  HELENE.]  You  have  told  me 
what  the  others  would  not  tell.  It  is  because  of 
the  clarions  and  the  glory  on  the  sea  that  I  am 
sending  him  away.  And  because  I  love  him  very 
much.  But  I  will  have  nothing  that  is  not  high 
and  noble  and  brave  and  because  I  will  not  have 
love  that  is  only  the  sound  of  flutes  and  a  memory 
in  the  morning,  and  because  I  would  not  degrade 
him  or  myself,  I  will  send  him  away.  [To 
ELISOR.]  You  do  not  love  me.  [He  makes  a 
gesture  of  protest.}  No,  I  do  not  mean  that. 


THE  SHADOW  131 

You  do  not  love  me  as  you  ought.     I  have  grown 

very  wise.     I  know  now  what  love  is:  it  is  being 

alone.  .  .  .  You — you  had  better  go  away.  .  .  . 

[The  jangle  of  spears  grows  louder •,  and  THE 

EMPEROR  comes  in  at  the  left  followed  by 

two  or  three  ragged  and  scarecrow  soldiers 

as  mad  as  himself. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Rushing  up  to  OISILLE.]  My  dear  lady! 
The  imperial  army!  I  have  found  them — actu 
ally  found  them.  They  were  wandering  in  the 
forest. 

OISILLE 

{Smiles  wanly,  then  takes  refuge  in  HELENE'S 
arms. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Not  at  all  nonplussed.}  And  my  young 
friend,  Elisor.  I  am  charmed.  I  am  on  my  way 
to  the  royal  castle  east  of  the  sun.  Will  you  not 
accompany  me?  I  shall  be  delighted! 

ELISOR 

[Speaking  slowly.}  I  do  not  understand  all 
this.  ...  I  see  only  that  you  do  not  love  me 
any  more.  .  .  .  However,  you  are  wiser  than  I. 
And  I  broke  my  promise,  too.  ...  I  will  go 


132  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

away,  Oisille — with  this  gentleman  [indicating 
THE  EMPEROR].  Perhaps  there  will  be  a  place 
for  me — in  his  castle. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Whispering  anxiously.}  Have  you  any 
money  ? 

ELISOR 

[Smiling  and  shaking  his  head.}     None  at  all. 

THE    EMPEROR 

[With  a  magnificent  gesture.}  It  does  not 
matter.  I  will  make  you  treasurer.  In  place  of 
the  deceased. 

ELISOR 

[Advancing  to  OISILLE.]  Goodbye.  Will 
you  not  kiss  me  this  time? 

OISILLE 

[Leaving  HELEN E.]      Yes. 

[She  lifts  her  face;  he  kisses  her. 

ELISOR 

[As  he  turns,  catching  sight  of  THE  SHADOW, 
apparently  for  the  first  time.}  Who  is  that? 

OISILLE 
Where?     I  see  no  one. 


THE  SHADOW  133 

ELISOR 

On  the  platform. 

OISILLE 
But  there  has  been  no  one  there. 

ELISOR 
But  now.     Look,  it  is  Harlequin. 

OISILLE 

No  ...  no !  It  is  the  old  woman  in  the  for 
est.  ...  I  will  not  see  her  now,  I  can  not  see  her. 
Good-bye !  Good-bye !  [She  runs  out^  left. 

ELISOR 

That  is  strange.  It  is  not  an  old  woman,  it  is 
Harlequin.  When  did  he  cornel 

HELENE 

He  has  been  there  all  the  time. 

ELISOR 

No,  he  was  not  there  a  moment  ago.  .  .  .  But 
it  is  strange.  She  is  mistaken,  mistaken  in  this 
as  in  many  other  things.  It  is  Harlequin.  [To 
HELENE.]  Will  you  not  tell  her  [wistfully] 
that  it  is  Harlequin?  I  should  like  her  to  know 
the  truth  for  once. 


134  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

HELENE 

But  it  is  not — 

ELISOR 

Ah!  .  .  .  You  are  wrong,  too.  Well,  never 
mind.  I  dare  say  it  makes  no  difference.  .  .  . 
Good-bye,  Harlequin.  .  .  .  [To  HELENE.] 
And  will  you  tell  her  that  I — I  love  her  very 
much? 

THE    EMPEROR 

[Bustling  about.]  Come!  Come!  It  is  a 
long  journey.  The  imperial  palace  is  very  mag 
nificent.  Though  it  is  some  distance  away.  And 
the  army  must  be  paid.  From  the  imperial  treas 
uries.  Come!  You  will  assume  your  position 
directly  we  arrive.  If  you  please.  [He  places 
himself  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  vast  propor 
tions  and  draws  a  magnificent,  if  visionary, 
sword.  ]  Forward ! 

[  The  soldiers  straggle  after  him  to  the  right. 
ELISOR  follows  them.  As  he  passes  the 
platform  THE  SHADOW  rises  and  stiffly 
gives  him  a  military  salute.  ELISOR  re 
turns  it  as  stiffly.  They  go  out. 
[THE  SHADOW  sinks  back  into  his  seat. 
Silence. 


THE  SHADOW  135 

HELENE 

Why  did  not  you  prevent  this? 

THE    SHADOW 

Why  did  not  you? 

[Silence. 

HELENE 

Must  it  always  happen  this  way? 

THE    SHADOW 

Always. 

HELENE 

And  you  can  not  help  yourself? 

THE    SHADOW 

Ah,  madame,  I  am  only — a  shadow. 

[Silence. 

[HELENE  walks  thoughtfully  to  the  left, 
-where  she  turns  and  speaks. 

HELENE 

Good-bye! 

[But  THE  SHADOW  does  not  hear  her.  He 
has  already  assumed  his  former  attitude, 
leaning  forward  with  his  chin  supported 
by  one  white  hand,  gazing  ahead  of  him 
— at  no  tiling.  He  smiles  slowly. 

[HELENE  goes  out. 


WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

[A  leaf  falls.  .  .  .  A  faint 

fcwwtef THE  SHADOW  sighs 

Very  slowly,  the  curtain  falls. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN 
BY  THORNTON  GILMAN 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

PHILOS  MRS.  ALLEN 

DAVID  LIZZIE 

STONE  MATTIE  BLACK 

PREACHER  MRS.  ROUNDTREE 

WARREN  ELLA  Dow 

BARNS  MRS.  BARNS 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN 

TIME:     New  Year's  Eve. 
SCENE  :     A  Middle  Western  town. 

MRS.  ALLEN'S  living -room  is  disclosed.  A  door, 
left,  gives  entrance  to  her  bedroom;  another  up 
stairs;  another,  rear,  to  the  kitchen;  right  of 
rear  centre  to  the  wood  room;  above,  right,  the 
fifth  door,  to  the  out  of  doors.  There  are  win 
dows.  In  one  corner  stands  a  heating  stove 
and  the  dining  table  is  in  the  other.  A  Brus 
sels  lounge  is  against  the  wall.  A  bureau  be 
tween  the  doors  to  the  wood  room  and  the 
kitchen,  a  few  family  pictures,  a  sewing  ma 
chine,  a  sword  of  the  Revolution,  a  hanging  oil 
lamp,  and  a  bracket  lamp  complete  the  furnish 
ing  of  the  room. 

A  watch  meeting  is  in  progress.  Ten  or  a  dozen 
chairs  are  arranged  like  pews  in  a  church;  these 
the  PREACHER  faces;  between  him  and  the  stove 
is  a  small  table  on  which  is  placed  a  silver  com 
munion  service.  At  the  left  of  the  centre  of 
141 


142  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

the  room  the  seven  people  of  the  congregation 
are  kneeling  before  the  PREACHER  as  they  have 
received  communion.  All  of  the  women  are 
bonneted  except  MRS.  ALLEN. 

The  PREACHER  pours  from  the  chalice  the  re 
mainder  of  the  wine  into  the  cruet  and  the  wine 
from  the  cruet  into  the  bottle;  then  he  spreads  a 
cloth  over  the  service. 

PREACHER 

Arise,  dearly  beloved,  go  in  peace,  and  may  the 
blessing  of  God  go  with  you. 

[The  communicants  rise  and  return  to  their 
seats. 

PREACHER 

We  are  coming  to  the  new  year.  The  times  are 
changed.  The  spirit  that  moved  among  our  fath 
ers  no  longer  guides  the  new  and  worldly  genera 
tion.  We,  the  faithful,  are  but  a  handful.  Our 
Church  is  like  an  old  gourd  whose  meat,  having 
dried,  rattles  in  the  shell.  Where  are  the  people 
who  do  not  fill  our  empty  shell  of  a  Church  ?  The 
spirit  has  dried  away  leaving  only  the  dead  that 
rattle. 

WARREN 

Amen.     Amen. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  143 

PREACHER 

[Becoming  more  violent.}  We  need  awaken 
ing.  We  need  to  be  embued  with  the  Holy  Ghost 
like  our  fathers,  who  attended  full  of  faith  and 
zeal  upon  the  means  of  salvation. 

WARREN 
Amen.     Amen. 

PREACHER 

But  the  spirit  can  be  recalled  to  live  with  us 
again.  If  the  few  here  to-night  can  go  out  from 
this  watch  meeting  into  the  new  year  fired  with 
the  evangelical  spirit,  that  will  make  us  "instant 
in  season,  out  of  season,  to  preach  the  word,  re 
prove,  rebuke,  exhort  with  all  long  suffering  and 
doctrine,"  the  new  year  will  end  with  great  addi 
tion  to  our  number  and  strength  of  faith  to  every 
one. 

[During  the  last  speech  the  town  marshal 
comes  in,  and  throwing  back  his  coat  waits 
for  the  end  of  the  sermon. 

PREACHER 

Welcome,  Brother  Stone.  We  are  glad  you 
can  be  with  us  at  the  end  of  our  watch. 


144  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

STONE 

I  came  when  I  got  the  saloons  shut  up. 

[Moves  along  the  aisle  to  a  seat  near  the 
PREACHER. 

PREACHER 

I  am  going  to  give  over  the  next  few  minutes  to 
the  brethren  to  tell  how  the  fire  was  on  them  of 
old  time.  Will  you  say  a  word,  Brother  Warren  ? 

WARREN 

[Rises  slowly  and  clears  his  throat.  He  is  an 
old  man  who  speaks  in  a  cracked  voice  and  with 
feeble  flourishes.]  I  remember  back  in  York 
state  when  I  was  a  boy  going  to  watch  meetin'. 
Everybody'd  go  fer  miles  around — men  and  their 
wives,  young  men,  young  women.  An'  children 
too,  back  there  in  that  time,  weren't  too  delicate 
and  ignorant  to  know  about  religion  and  the  way 
to  get  to  Glory.  Strong  men  weren't  ashamed  to 
testify  about  their  knowledge  of  the  wisdom  of 
God.  I  can  remember  their  prayers  and  "amens" 
as  though  'twere  yesterday.  An'  the  last  ten  min 
utes  of  meditation  and  silent  prayer  everybody 
felt  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  the 
hand  shaking  when  the  meetin'  broke  up  at  twelve. 
I  tell  you  they  weren't  ashamed — strong  men  and 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  145 

leading  men — to  say  to  one  another,  "Is  the  Lord 
with  you,  Brother4?"  We  ain't  got  that  now.  I 
say  'tain't  the  same. 

[He  sits  weakly  and  wipes  his  eyes  with  his 
hand. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[  Who  has  been  nodding  her  approval  of  his 
words  pipes  shrilly.}  Amen. 

PREACHER 

We  want  to  get  back  to  the  old  way.  [After  a 
silence  when  MATTIE  BLACK  rises  suddenly.} 
Sister  Black,  God  bless  you. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

That's  the  way  I  feel.  I  agree  with  Brother 
Warren.  When  I  see  the  worldly  way  people 
carry  on  now'days  without  no  more  heed  than  as 
if  there  weren't  a  God,  I  often  wonder  what  the 
world'll  come  to.  With  people  it's  anything  and 
everything  before  church  duty,  until  sometimes 
I'm  afraid  I'll  live  to  see  the  world  get  punished 
for  their  sin.  [Sits. 

PREACHER 

[STONE  has  risen.}     Brother  Stone. 


146  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

STONE 

I  was  brought  up  in  the  fear  of  God  and  the 
law.  People  used  to  go  to  watch  meeting,  because 
they  feared  God,  and  the  end  of  the  year  was  a 
good  time  to  think  about  their  sins  and  start  the 
new  year  with  a  clean  heart  and  a  renewal  of  faith. 
But  the  new  generation  don't  do  things  that  way. 
They  change  everything.  They'll  get  punished 
for  their  sin.  God'll  smite  'em  in  his  wrath. 
He'll  smite  'em.  [Sits. 

BARNS 

I  just  want  to  add  to  what  the  brethren  Ve 
said  by  saying  I  think  the  way  they  do. 

[A  long  pause. 

PREACHER 

Has  any  one  a  word  more  ? 

[Another  pause. 

PREACHER 

Sister  Allen,  have  you  nothing  to 


MRS.    ALLEN 

[A  woman  of  4.5  who  has  drunk  life  from  a 
bitter  cup  but  has  kept  sweetness  of  attitude. 
While  the  others  agreed  with  the  foregoing  in 
•various  unconscious  and  characteristic  ways,  her 
quietness  gave  the  impression  of  disapproval.}  I 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  147 

said  nothing,  for  I'm  not  sure  I'm  right  when  I 
disagree  with  everybody. 

PREACHER 

If  you  have  fallen  into  a  wrong  way  of  think 
ing,  we  can  help  you  to  get  back  into  the  right 
one. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[She  rises  and  begins  to  speak  reluctantly^  but 
gathers  force  as  she  goes  on.}  I  can't  believe  peo 
ple  are  bad.  My  dressmaking  takes  me  where 
I  can  watch  them  live.  They  don't  talk  very 
much  about  God,  but  with  them  nothing  matters 
beyond  the  great  commandment,  "Love  thy  neigh 
bour  as  thyself."  And  when  people  are  living 
that  commandment  all  the  talking  and  shouting  in 
the  world  wouldn't  help.  And  a  whole  lot  of  'em 
are  fighting  all  kinds  of  things  that  pull  'em  down 
and  are  doing  the  very  best  they  can.  Oh,  I 
know,  people  are  good  and  the  world's  getting  bet 
ter  every  minute  for  their  living  in  it. 

[Stands  with  shining  eyes  forgetting  their 
antagonism  to  her  opinion. 

WARREN 

D'you  mean  the  world  is  better  fer  people  that 
get  along  without  tending  on  the  means  of  grace  ? 


148  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Startled  at  the  aggression  of  his  tone.}  Why, 
yes,  I  mean  what  we  consider  important  maybe  the 
Lord  won't  take  into  account  if  people  only  live 
up  to  that  commandment. 

WARREN 

You're  on  unsafe  ground.  The  devil  argues 
that  worldly  way. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Oh  no!     I  think— 

PREACHER 

Sister  Allen,  I  regret  you  are  wandering  away 
from  the  church.  I'll  come  to  you  to-morrow  and 
wrestle  with  you.  You  need  help  back  into  the 
way.  [  When  he  has  addressed  her,  she  sits  down, 
disappointed  but  not  beaten.  He  turns  to  the 
others.}  We  must  approach  the  new  year  peni 
tently  and  prayerfully. 

WARREN 
Amen.     Amen. 

PREACHER 

There  are  but  a  few  minutes  in  the  old  year. 
We  will  complete  the  watch  together  in  medita- 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  149 

tion  and  silent  prayer.  Pray  forgiveness  of  sin, 
bringing  the  erring  to  a  true  understanding,  in 
crease  to  our  number,  and  the  returning  of  the 
wandering  to  the  faith.  [All  look  at  MRS. 
ALLEN.]  Let  the  wandering  pray  to  be  guided 
back  into  the  path  of  right. 

[He  kneels  at  the  table  and  the  congregation 
settle  to  their  worship. 

WARREN 

[Having  turned  round  and  knelt. .]  Oh  God. 
Oh  God.  Have  mercy. 

[Silence  of  some  length  once  or  twice  broken 
by  a  bit  of  individual  prayer  spoken  indis 
tinctly. 

[The  door  at  the  right  swings  slowly  toward 
audience — stops — opens  farther  until  it 
comes  to  a  creak  in  the  hinge.  The  woman 
who  sits  farthest  from  the  stove  draws  her 
shawl  more  closely.  The  PREACHER  looks 
up,  but  is  unable  to  see  any  one. 

[A  timid  voice  from  the  unseen  woman  in  the 
door.]  Can  I  come  in"? 

PREACHER 

[All  turn.\      All  are  welcome  before  the  Lord. 


150  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

[ A  young  woman  enters  staggering  under  the 
weight  of  a  jive  year  old  child.  Her  in 
adequate  dress  has  the  mark  of  the  cheap 
urban  castaway  in  contrast  to  the  village 
women's  smugness.  She  is  unmistakably 
weak  from  hunger  and  exposure. 
Throughout,  her  sweetness  of  manner  ap 
peals  and  saves  from  burlesque  her  misun 
derstanding  of  the  preacher's  metaphysical 
figure.  She  stops  near  the  door  uncertain. 

PREACHER 

Come  in.     All  are  welcome  before  the  Lord. 

YOUNG    WOMAN 

{Moving  along  the  aisle. \      You  Mr.  Lord? 

PREACHER 

Don't  you  know  the  Lord,  Jesus  Christ*? 

YOUNG    WOMAN 

Oh!     Didn't  know  your  name   'tall.     'Scuse 
me.      [She  skivers.]     Ain't  a  saloon  open. 

[The  women  gasp. 

STONE 
You  won't  go  to  the  saloon,  here,  hussy. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  151 

YOUNG    WOMAN 

[Sweetly  and  timidly.}  My  name  ain't  hussy ; 
but  Lizzie. 

STONE 
Humph ! 

PREACHER 

Well,  Lizzie,  you  do  very  wrong  to  go  to  the 
saloon,  when  you  might  come  to  the  worship  of 
the  Lord. 

LIZZIE 

No,  sir.  'Tain't  wrong  to  go  to  a  saloon;  it's 
warm  there. 

MRS.    BARNS 

Why!     Why! 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Mercy ! 

MATTIE    BLACK 

What  talk! 

STONE 

Put  her  out.  I'll  give  her  a  place  at  the  lock 
up  where  she'll  keep  warm  until  she  knows  where 
to  keep  out  of. 


152  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PREACHER 

Patience,  Brother  Stone!     She  may  have  been 
sent  here  to  have  her  soul  redeemed. 

WARREN 

Amen. 

STONE 

Doubt  it.     Know  that  loose  kind. 

LIZZIE 

No,  sir.  I  weren't  sent  here  'tall.  I'm  hunt 
ing  my  man.  [Sinks  into  a  chair. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Poor  thing. 

LIZZIE 

[Gathers  all  her  strength  to  make  her  appeal.} 
Yo'  see  I'm  from  the  city,  and  he  lived  out  in 
the  country  somewheres.  D'  you  think  I'll  find 
him? 

STONE 

Crazy. 

PREACHER 

{Answering  directly  in  spite  of  himself.}  The 
country  is  large. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  153 

LIZZIE 

I  kno't.     I'm   all   done   out   carrying  David. 
He's  getting  so  heavy. 

WARREN 
Convert  her,  Brother. 

LIZZIE 

[Rousing.}  'Tain't  wrong  to  go  to  the  saloon ; 
it's  warm  there  an'  mebbe  they'd  gimme  something 
to  eat. 

PREACHER 

[Sternly  rushing  at  the  opening.}  Do  you  live 
by  bread  alone'? 

WARREN 
Amen.     Be  instant  in  season. 

LIZZIE 

Oh  no,  sir.  Sometimes  I  wash  dishes  at  a  hotel, 
an1  I  get  meat — [proudly}  left-overs,  you  know. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[  Who  has  been  trying  to  control  herself  during 
the  last  few  speeches.}  But  entirely  out  of  sea 
son  now.  Mattie,  let  me  out. 

[Pushes  into  the  aisle. 


154  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

STONE 

Better  let  her  alone.     Take  my  opinion  for  it. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Catching    at    MRS.    ALLEN'S    dress.]      You 
know  the  kind  of  women  that  go  to  the  saloon. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Yes.     The  women  who  can't  find  Christian 
charity  and  love  anywhere  else. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Oh! 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Peeping  at  the  child  as  women  will.]     Why, 
the  boy  is  asleep. 

LIZZIE 
Yes'm. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

How  old  is  he? 

LIZZIE 
Five  last  summer. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

He  isn't  very  big  for  his  age. 

LIZZIE 
No'm.     But  he's  awful  heavy  to  carry. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  155 

MRS.    ALLEN 

He's  a  fine  little  chap  though. 

LIZZIE 

Yes'm.     Like  his  paw. 

[The  PREACHER  goes  and  talks  to  STONE. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

You  thought  your  husband  came  out  here*? 

LIZZIE 

Yes'm,  he  come  from  the  country,  but  you'd 
never  know'd  it  to  see  him.  Didn't  like  it,  though 
I  guess  his  folks  was  real  swell. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

And  you  don't  know  what  became  of  him? 

LIZZIE 

No'm.  Yo'  see  Davie  was  born  at  the  Char 
ity.  An'  I  al'ays  thought  he  went  back  to  his 
folks.  I  ken  tell  you  he  was  a  looker.  D'  you 
think  I  ken  find  'im?  [Sinks  back  faint. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

We'll  see,  dear. 

LIZZIE 

[Starting  up  nervously.}  And  yo'  don't  think 
I'm  a  bad  un  for  going  to  a  saloon? 


156  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

No,  dear.     I  do  not. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Hannah  Allen,  for  shame. 

LIZZIE 
I  ain't. 

[She  closes  her  eyes  and  her  head  sinks. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

No,  I  know,  Lizzie.  Let  me  put  David  here 
under  the  preacher's  coat. 

[Takes  the  child ',  and  LIZZIE  settles  to  un 
consciousness. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Speaking  plainly  as  a  friend,  after  all  we  know 
your  boy  brought  on  you  through  the  saloon,  I'd 
think  you'd  be  the  last  one  to  defend  it. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  am.  But  will  you  tell  me  what  my  son  has 
to  do  with  this  woman ^ 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Nothing,  far  as  I  know. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  157 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Then,  we  won't  talk  about  him. 

[Puts  the  child  down. 

PREACHER 

[Leaving  STONE.]  Sister  Allen,  if  this  young 
woman  goes  out  of  the  world  and  her  soul  is  lost 
through  your  interfering,  God  will  hold  you  to 
account  in  the  last  day. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Straightening  up  to  face  him.}  Funny,  I  was 
thinking  of  the  last  day.  And  then  I'll  be  with 
the  saloon  keeper — 

PREACHER 

I  fear  you  will. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I'll  be  with  the  saloonkeeper  who  "fed  her  when 
she  was  anhungered."  [Change  of  manner  to 
putting  the  thing  up  to  him.}  If  you  and  the 
saloonkeeper  are  judged  by  this,  where  will  you 
be? 

PREACHER 

I'm  doing  my  duty;  she  needs  salvation. 


158  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

She  needs  something  to  eat  and  to  be  got  to  bed, 
if  you  people  will  go  away. 

PREACHER 

Sister  Allen,  do  you  know  what  you  are  saying? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Of  course,  why,  she's  worried  nearly  crazy  over 
her  husband  deserting  her,  and  all  worn  out  and 
starving  and  nearly  frozen  walking —  And  you 
— you  fools — are  tormenting  her  about  her  soul. 

PREACHER 

Her  soul  ought  to  be  saved. 

[WARREN,  STONE,  and  MATTIE  speak  in  re 
sponse  to  PREACHER. 

WARREN 
Amen. 

STONE 

What  you  got  to  say  to  that*? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Amen. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Why  can't  you  see?     The  poor  little  drudge's 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  159 

been  worked  to  death  ever  since  she  was  a  baby 
and  never's.had  any  time  to  have  a  soul. 

PREACHER 

May  God  have  mercy  on  you. 

MRS.    BARNS 

Oh! 

MATTIE    BLACK 

No! 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Mercy. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Of  course,  you  wouldn't  understand.     Won't 
you  go  away  and  let  me  get  her  to  bed? 

PREACHER 

I  will  stay  to  redeem  her  soul. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Oh,  for  a  saloonkeeper ! 

[She  stands  a  minute  thinking,  then  goes 
resolutely  to  the  bureau  rear  centre,  takes 
up  a  box  of  tea  and  the  cruet  of  the  com 
munion  service.  The  PREACHER  and  the 
people  watch  her  hypnotized.  She  goes  to 
the  stove  and  rinses  the  cruet  with  boiling 
water  from  the  kettle. 


160  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PREACHER 

What  are  you  doing  with  the  vessels  of  com 
munion  ? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Doing?  That's  the  point.  [ Then  rinsing  the 
cruet.  ]  Something  must  be  done. 

[She  opens  the  box  and  takes  tea  in  her 
fingers. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[As  the  tea  drops.  ]      Tea ! 

PREACHER 

You  shan't  give  her  tea  out  of  the  chalice. 
[Steps  forward  toward  her.  MRS.  ALLEN  unan- 
swering  "pours  the  water  over  the  tea.  After  a 
pause.]  You  don't  intend  to  do  it? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Why  yes,  I  do. 

PREACHER 

I  won't  let  you.  [MRS.  ALLEN  looks  at  the 
cruet  while  waiting  for  the  tea.  Another  pause.} 
I  won't  let  you.  Do  you  hear? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Perfectly. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  161 

PREACHER 

[Screaming.]  Do  you  know  what  you  are  do 
ing? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  am  trying  to  keep  my  temper. 

PREACHER 

It's  sacrilege — sacrilege. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  picks  up  the  cruet  in  a  holder. 
STONE  and  WARREN  speak,  almost  at  once 
to  egg  the  PREACHER  on. 

STONE 
You  must  deal  with  her. 

WARREN 

Amen. 

PREACHER 

[Snatching  at  the  spout.  ]      I'll  stop  you. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Be  careful.  You  will  burn  your  hands.  [He 
draws  back  his  burned  hand  and  storms  rear;  she 
pours  the  tea.}  The  wrath  of  the  tea  pot. 

PREACHER 

God,  may  thy  wrath  not  fall  on  me. 


7ve 


162  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Going  to  LIZZIE.]      Here,  my  dear. 

LIZZIE 

[Rousing.]     Awww-      Oh,      I      must 
dropped  off.     D'  you  think  I  ken  find  Jim? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

We'll  see.     Here.     Drink  this— 

PREACHER 

Blasphemy.     The  communion  service.     Blas 
phemy. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Well  then  that  too.     Drink  this  in  memory  of 
Him  Who  came  to  bring  love  to  men. 

[Her  eyes  blaze  at  the  preacher. 
[PREACHER,  STONE,  and  WARREN  speak  al 
most  at  once.     The  orchestration  of  these 
speeches  is  almost  a  groan. 

PREACHER 

God  be  merciful ! 

WARREN 

Oh  God! 

STONE 

She's  gone  beyond  our  prayers. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  163 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Putting  the  cover  on  the  box  and  giving  LIZZIE 
bread  from  the  table. ~\  That  will  put  strength 
into  you,  won't  it,  dear? 

LIZZIE 

Yes'm  [Raising  the  chalice  into  the  view  of 
all.}  Gee!  Ain't  it  a  pretty  cup!  [STONE 
rises  angrily.}  D'  you  know,  I  dreamt  I  pretty 
near  found  him  ?  Don' t  you  bel ieve  I  ken  *? 

[The  congregation  is  getting  to  its  feet  and 
preparing  to  leave. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

We  have  broken  up  the  meeting.     Drink  it  all. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Hannah  Allen,  this  will  come  back  on  you. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  shall  reap  what  I  sow. 

[She  leads  LIZZIE  to  the  bedroom. 
[The  PREACHER,  with  the  basket ',  and  STONE 
storm  out;  BARNS  and  his  wife  follow. 
MATTIE  BLACK,  MRS.  ROUNDTREE,  and 
ELLA  Dow  are  seated  putting  on  their 
overshoes;  they  stop  and  watch  WARREN, 


164  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

He  rises.  All  the  religious  fire  is  gone. 
His  movements  are  heavy  with  sorrow. 
He  puts  on  his  cap  and  shuffles  along  the 
aisle  to  the  door.  They  are  held  by  the 
broken  old  man,  but  cannot  interpret  what 
they  see.  ELLA  is  the  first  to  come  back 
to  the  present;  she  looks  at  the  disorder  of 
the  door. 

ELLA 

I  think  I  ought  to  stay  and  tidy  up. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Well,  then,  I'm  not  going — I  don't  think  we 
ought  to  leave  that  girl  with  Hannah.  How  are 
we  to  know  how  anything  turns  out?  She  might 
want  Christian  comfort.  [Takes  off  her  over 
shoes.}  I  want  to  know  how  that  girl  dies. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

[Timidly.]     I'm  not  going  home  alone. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I'll  see  the  thing  out.  This  chair  belongs  in 
the  kitchen. 

[They  move  about  carrying  of  some  of  the 
chairs  and  rearranging  furniture,  and  MAT- 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  165 

TIE  slams  the  hymn  books  together.     MRS. 
ALLEN  enters  from  the  bedroom. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Thank  you.     You  know  where  my  chairs  be 
long.     Ella,  will  you  go  and  get  a  doctor  here4? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Who's  goin'  to  pay  for  him,  I'd  like  to  know*? 
[MRS.  ALLEN  smiles;  goes  to  the  bureau, 
takes  a  night  gown  from  a  drawer,  hangs 
it  over  the  back  of  a  chair  near  the  stove. 
ELLA  goes  out.  MRS.  ALLEN  takes  the 
sleeping  DAVID  from  the  chair  near  the 
stove,  puts  him  on  the  lounge  and  covers 
him. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Poor  little  fellow,  you  ought  to  be  undressed 
but  I  can't  tend  to  you  now. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

He  ain't  likely  to  have  a  ma  long. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

No,  she's  pretty  far  gone. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Think  she'll  live  through  the  night? 


i66  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Hard  telling.     She's  weak  as  a  cat,  but  not  will 
ing  to  give  up  her  hunt  and  go  to  bed. 

[Exit  taking  a  chair  with  her. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Who  has  watched  MRS.   ALLEN    off.]      She 
don't  act  a  bit  repentant. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

The  way  she  talked  made  the  cold  shivers  run 
up  and  down  my  back. 

[Enters  ELLA. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[ELLA  has  gone  to  the  night  gown  and  is  warm 
ing  different  parts  of  it.  ]      Pretty  far  gone  *? 

ELLA 

Starved  to  the  bone. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Did  she  ask  for  spirit' al  help? 

ELLA 

No.     She  babbled  on  about  her  man.     Han 
nah's  getting  her  quiet. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  167 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[After  a  moment  of  silence. \     She'll  be  taking 
up  with  evolution  next. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Mercy,  I  hope  not. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  enters  from  the  bedroom  with 
a  lamp  which  she  places  on  the  bureau  and 
turns  down. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[In  answer  to  MATTIE  BLACK'S  evident  ques 
tion.]     Maybe,  she  will  sleep. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Taking  up  a  pile  of  hymn  books.]     Where  do 
you  want  them  put1? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Hesitates  a  moment;  her  face  becomes  cold; 
then  indicating  the  table.}     On  the  table. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Ain't  you  going  to  put  them  away*? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

No.     The  preacher  can  take  them  away  as  he 
took  the  communion  service. 


168  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Well,  but— 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Firmly.]  From  now  on,  my  religion  will 
have  to  be  without  the  paraphernalia  of  the 
church. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Vehemently.]  You  ain't  goin'  to  leave  the 
church ! 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Struggling  and  gasping.]     Yes. 

[There    is   a   sound   of   falling    wood    off 
stage. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

What  was  that? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

The  wood. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Dropping  the  books.}      I'll  see. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

No,  I  thank  you,  I  can  go.  You  have  done 
a  good  deal.  Sit  down  and  watch  David. 

[She  takes  the  lamp  from  the  bureau  and 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  169 

goes  into  the  wood  room.     Just  as  she  is 
leaving,  ELLA  enters. 

ELLA 
Neither  doctor's  home.     I  left  word — 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Watch  them.     I  mean  watch  David. 

[She  goes  out. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  don't  see  what's  got  into  Hannah  Allen. 

[She  sits  near  the  lounge. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

I  al'ays  thought  of  her  as  well  grounded  in  the 
faith. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Ella,  what  do  you  think?     Hannah  Allen  said 
that  she  was  going  to  wash  her  hands  of  religion. 

ELLA 

[Incredulously.]     No,  she  couldn't  have  said 
that. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Yes,  she  did,  right  here  not  two  minutes  ago. 
Did^t  she,  Miz  Roundtree? 


i;o  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Not  exactly  that.     She  said — 

[Moves  away  to  a  straight  chair  near  the 
centre  of  the  room. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Donno  what  else  you  could  make  of  it.  Donno 
what  she  means  by  getting  out  with  the  church 
anyhow. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

It'll  be  a  blow  to  the  church  to  lose  her,  we  got 
to  admit  that.  She  was  such  a  good  worker. 

ELLA 
D'  you  think  she'll  leave  the  church? 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

I  don't  see  how  she  can  stay  in. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[After  the  manner  of  gossip's  analysis.']  Yes. 
She  was  al'ays  a  good  worker,  but  I  wouldn't  won 
der  if  the  church  would  get  along  without  people 
that  want  to  leave.  An'  I  donno  as  the  church 
wants  them  that  talks  her  way. 

ELLA 
They'd  miss  her  help. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  171 

MATTIE    BLACK 

One'd  think  the  way  her  boy  went  to  hell  would 
be  a  warning  to  her. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

I  don't  believe  she  even  knows  where  he  is. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[She  is  very  positive  here.]  Just  tramping,  I 
hear.  He's  nothing  but  a  common  tramp. 

ELLA 

[She  hardly  says  this  to  the  others.}  Too  bad. 
He  was  a  nice  looking  boy. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  guess  Marshal  Stone' d  like  to  get  a  nice  look 
at  him.  But  d'  you  know  I  never  hear  the  mar 
shal  talking  about  enforcing  the  law  but  I  have 
to  think  of  the  cute  way  that  young  scapegrace, 
Allen,  fooled  Stone  and  got  away. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Marshal  Stone  told  Roundtree  he'd  never  let 
him  go  if  he  got  his  hands  on  him  again. 

ELLA 

Young  Allen  will  go  to  prison  for  a  long  time 
if  he  gets  caught. 


i?2  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MATTIE    BLACK 

No  longer  than  he  deserves.  [Her  tone  and 
manner  of  the  professional  gossip  reverse  the  force 
of  the  word  "sorry"}  I  al'ays  did  feel  sorry  for 
Hannah  though,  until  I  heard  the  way  she  talked 
and  carried  on  to-night. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Her  talk  gave  me  hot  flashes  and  cold  chills  all 
over  together. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  wonder  what's  become  of  her. 

ELLA 
Where'dshego? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Went  to  find  something  that  fell  in  the  wood 
room. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

Well,  I'd  think  she'd  have  found  it  by  now. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Losing  interest.]  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I 
don't  believe  she'll  make  a  very  good  job  trying 
to  get  along  without  the  support  of  the  church. 

{A  rattle  of  the  door  knob. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  173 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Mercy,  Miz  Roundtree,  what  was  you  saying? 
[MRS.  ALLEN  enters  white  and  much  shaken. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

[After  a  moment's  stare.]  Did  you  find  what 
fell? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Trying  to  ignore  the  question  and  failing.]  I 
want  to  thank  you  all  for  your  help.  I  don't 
think  there's  anything  more  to  do  now,  and  you 
are  all  tired. 

MRS.    ROUNDTREE 

I  was  thinking  of  going  when  you  got  back. 

[Rises. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Yes,  I  must  be  going,  now't  you're  here;  but 
what  was  the  noise  in  the  wood  room  that  took 
you  so  long  to  find  out  about? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Confused.}  Oh,  that?  Why — the  cat  was 
climbing  on  the  wood. 

[Suspicion  gathers  in  the  faces  of  MATTIE 
and  MRS  ROUNDTREE. 


174  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 


MATTIE 


The  cat !  Made  a  noise  like  that?  What  you 
talkin',  Hannah  Allen? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[After  a  pause.}  The  wood  must've  just 
fallen.  I  was  hunting  for  the  cat. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Snatching  her  shawl  from  a  chair. \  I  don't 
b'lieve  a  word  of  it,  Hannah  Allen.  You  got  into 
a  queer  way  lately.  Are  you  coming? 

[MATTIE  and  MRS.  ROUNDTREE  with  set 
faces  are  now  near  the  door. 

ELLA 

[Softly.}     Good-night.     I'm  sorry. 

[She  follows  the  others  out. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[To  ELLA  and  MRS.  ROUNDTREE  as  they  go} 
Think  I  know  a  lie. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  moves  to  the  door  and  locks 
it  after  them,  pulls  down  the  shades  of  the 
windows,  then  goes  back  to  the  wood  room 
door  and  opens  it. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  175 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Collecting  heiself.}  Come  in.  [Enters  her 
son,  PHILOS;  he  answers  MATTIE'S  description 
"Nothing  but  a  common  tramp"  except  that  his 
over  intelligent  face  marks  him  anything  but  com 
mon.  She  catches  convulsively  at  him.}  Oh, 
my  boy! 

PHILOS 

[Flippantly  as  he  moves  away  from  her 
caress.}  You  better  take  a  correspondence  course 
in  lying;  your  tech's  poor. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Yes.     I  had  a  limited  education. 

PHILOS 

Sorry  can't  stay  long.  But  I  got  to  blow  before 
the  old  hens  cackle  it  about  that  I'm  here. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

You  can't  go  without  something  to  eat. 

PHILOS 

Thank  you,  lady.  I  never  let  an  impulse  of 
charity  go  to  waste.  [MRS.  ALLEN  goes  toward 
the  kitchen}  My  life  work  is  to  develop  charity 
in  the  public, 


176  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Turning  back.}  Every  night  I  think  of  how 
hard  everything  is  for  you. 

PHILOS 

[Cheerfully.}  The  world's  dead  ag'in  me  and 
my  kind. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  think  of  you  without  enough  to  eat  and  drink. 

PHILOS 

[Laughing  but  not  unkindly  J\  I'm  a  philoso 
pher.  They  call  me  Philos.  There's  plenty  of 
fool  women  to  fill  our  bellies  with  eating;  so  that's 
all  right.  And  there  never  was  yet  a  man  that 
could  get  enough  to  drink. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

But  sleeping  out  in  the  cold. 

PHILOS 

Lords  of  the  road  sleeping  in  the  cold!  Dead 
wrong  again.  While  the  good  and  industrious 
stay  at  home  and  freeze,  we  go  to  our  winter 
homes  in  the  sunny  South. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

But — but — 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  17? 

PHILOS 

Now  see  here.  Don't  take  it  that  way.  I've 
done  things  you're  ashamed  of  before  and  after  I 
left  here.  Why  waste  feeling  over  me?  I'm  an 
outcast.  I'm  not  worth  it.  But  don't  think  I 
get  no  enjoyment  out  of  life  on  the  road. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Do  you  keep  well  ? 

PHILOS 

As  I  hinted  about  drink — fine  as  a  pickle  with  a 
little  pickling.  I  got  to  get  out  of  here.  Don't 
be  long  about  that  lunch.  [  Warms  himself  at 
the  stove  and  later  moves  to  the  table. ~\  What 
was  that  gang  here  for?  Cottage  prayer  meeting4? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Moving  about  in  the  kitchen.}  That  to  be 
gin  with;  then  a  poor  girl  stumbled  in;  we  have  her 
in  bed  in  my  room  there.  She'll  drift  off  into 
eternity  some  time  to-night. 

PHILOS 
How'd  she  come  here? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Wandered  in  hunting  for  her  husband. 


178  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PHILOS 

He  wasn't  the  apron  string  variety. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Deserted  when  the  baby  was  born. 

PHILOS 

[With  a  shrug. \     Many  a  man  deserted,  be 
cause  he  couldn't  keep  step  in  the  regular  army. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Oh,  I  believe  she  was  better  off  without  him. 

PHILOS 

[Goes    to    the   bureau.}      The    deserter   often 
knows  that. 

[He  takes  the  lamp  from  the  bureau  and  goes 
into  the  bedroom. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

He  left  her  with  the  child  to  support.     He  was 
a  hero. 

[She  goes  to  DAVID,  and  adjusts  his  covering. 
PHILOS  comes  from  the  bedroom. 

PHILOS 

[Softly.]     I'll  be  damned. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  179 

MRS.    ALLEN 

What  did  you  say  ? 

PHILOS 
How'd  Lizzie  come  here? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  didn't  hear  what  you  said. 

PHILOS 
How'd  she  come  here4? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Hunting  for  her  husband  and  she  wandered  in 
here  ready  to  die.  [Returns  to  the  kitchen.'] 
Babbled  all  the  time  about  finding  him — I  don't 
think  she  was  herself,  because  she  didn't  seem  to 
know  more'n  her  name,  Lizzie, — and  David. 

PHILOS 
What? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

David,  her  little  boy. 

PHILOS 
Oh,  I  see.      [Softly.]     Her  little  boy. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

He  isn't  very  big  for  his  age;  don't  s'pose  he 
ever  had  enough  to  eat. 


i8o  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PHILOS 

[Goes  slowly  to  the  lounge,  stands  looking  at 
DAVID.]  Well,  little  rooster.  [Back  to  his  care 
less  manner.}  Chickens  come  home  to  roost. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Coming  from  the  kitchen  hunts  for  something 
on  the  bureau.}  I'll  always  want  to  know 
David's  last  name. 

PHILOS 

[Moving  away  from  DAVID  and  avoiding  MRS. 
ALLEN.]  You'll  never  find  out  his  father. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

There's  no  way  to  find  out. 

PHILOS 
No.     No  way.     You'll  never  know. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Produces  money  from  a  dish  on  the  bureau.} 
Here.  [Goes  to  him.}  A  little  late  for  Christ 
mas. 

PHILOS 

[Turns,  looks  dully  at  the  money,  then  drops 
to  flippancy. \  Can't  be  done.  Not  this  time. 
You  have  more  need  for  that  than  my  kind.  I 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  181 

was  telling  you  we  are  different.  [Turns  as  if 
drawn  back  to  DAVID.]  You  pay.  [Looking 
at  DAVID.]  You  see  you  pay. 

[The  tableau  is  held  for  a  moment.  A  com 
manding  knock  on  the  door  sends  PHILOS 
flying  to  the  wood  room  door. 

PHILOS 

I'll  catch  the  freight  at  the  crossing.  Keep 
them  busy. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  nods  and  follows  him  into  the 
kitchen.  The  knock  is  repeated  more  em 
phatically. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Who  are  you?  [She  moves  down  to  the  rock 
ing  chair  in  front  of  the  stove  and  sets  it  rocking 
violently. 

STONE 

[  Without.  ]     Open  the  door ! 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Not  until  I  know  who  you  are. 

STONE 

Open  the  door,  or  I'll  break  it  in ! 


182  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Crossing.}  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you 
want  at  this  time  of  night? 

STONE 

I  am  the  marshal  of  the  town,  and  I  have  a 
right  to  come  in  at  any  time  of  the  night. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Opening  the  door  with  caution.}  Oh,  come 
in.  I  live  so  near  the  street  that  drunken  fellows 
try  the  door  often.  [STONE  enters  carrying  a  lan 
tern.}  I  didn't  know  you  had  to  be  out  so  late. 

STONE 

Humph!     Agreeable,  ain't  you? 

[He  looks  hurriedly  into  the  wood  room,  the 
kitchen,  the  bedroom.  Crosses  and  meets 
MRS.  ALLEN  about  the  centre  of  the  room. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Can  you  tell  me  what  you  want? 

STONE 

[Giving  her  a  scornful  glance  crosses  to  win 
dows  and  throws  up  the  shades.  ]  Honest  people 
ain't  ashamed  to  have  a  shade  up,  are  they? 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  183 

MRS.    ALLEN 

If  you  ask  me,  I'd  say  "No." 

STONE 

Hannah  Allen,  where  have  you  got  that  boy  of 
yours  hid? 

[MRS.  ALLEN  looks  up  at  STONE,  her  lips 
move  but  utter  no  word;  she  hangs  her 
head  and  turns  away.  STONE  studies  her 
a  moment. 

STONE 

You  know  my  duty  to  the  law. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[In  a  voice  almost  inaudible  for  her  agitation.} 

Yes. 

STONE 

I  got  to  search  your  house. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  know. 

STONE 

Take  the  lamp.  [She  moves  to  the  bureau 
slowly  and  reluctantly  turns  the  lamp  up  and 
leads  the  way  to  the  bedroom. \  That  girl  alive 
yet? 


184  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

[He  passes  in;  she  stays  in  the  living  room 
holding  the  lamp. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Sleeping. 

STONE 

Lower  the  light. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Yes. 

STONE 

[Enters  and  leads  the  way  to  the  wood  room 
door  and  goes  in.  Returning.}  Nobody  there 
now. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[  With  effort.}  A  little  cold  for  a  spare  room, 
don't  you  think? 

STONE 

Humph!  [Goes  to  the  kitchen.  Speaking 
within.}  Going  to  have  something  to  eat? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Yes. 

STONE 

[Returning.}     'Tain't  for  more'n  one  anyhow. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  185 

MRS.    ALLEN 

No. 

[STONE  opens  the  stair  door. 

STONE 
Upstairs'? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Yes. 

[  They  go  upstairs. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Enters,  looks  around  the  room.]  Nobody 
here.  [Hears  STONE  and  MRS.  ALLEN  above.} 
Oh.  [Crosses  and  peeks  into  the  bedroom.] 
Breathing,  yet.  [Goes  to  her  overshoes  near  the 
stove;  picks  them  up.}  No,  I'll  leave  'em  and  I 
ken  come  back  again.  [Drops  the  overshoes,  lis 
tens.']  Here  they  come. 

[Crosses  to  the  outer  door  and  is  passing  out 
when  STONE  and  MRS.  ALLEN  return. 

STONE 

There  he  goes.  [Rushes  after.}  Halt  or  I'll 
shoot. 

[STONE  returns  with  MATTIE  BLACK  by  the 
collar. 


i86  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Don't  you  know  who  I  am  yet? 

STONE 

What're  you  prowling  into  people's  houses  for? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Oh,  Mattie,  I  thought  you  went  home. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  came  back  after  my  overshoes. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Did  you  leave  them? 

STONE 

[To  MATTIE.]     He  ain't  here. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

He  was  here.     I  know  it. 

STONE 
[  With  slow  sarcasm.  ]      Did  you  talk  with  him  ? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  don't  have  to  be  told  everything. 

STONE 
He  ain't  here  now.     I  looked  all  over. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  187 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  know  another  thing — Hannah's  be'n  making 
a  ninny  of  you.  He  got  away  while  she  kept  you 
here. 

STONE 
Hannah,  would  you  do  that? 

[A  locomotive  whistle  is  heard. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Her  control  giving  away.}  That,  too,  for 
love.  Oh,  but  he  got  away. 

STONE 
Hannah,  you  were  a  Christian  once. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

And  a  mother  above  all. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Excitedly.]      Maybe,  you  ken  catch  him  yet! 

STONE 
The  beggar ! 

[STONE  and  MATTIE  exeunt. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  goes  to  DAVID  and  tucks  the 

cover  more  closely,  goes  to  the  bureau, 

takes  the  lamp,  enters  the  bedroom,  comes 

back  almost  immediately,  places  the  lamp 


i88  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

on  the  bureau,  brings  wood  from  the  wood 
room,  puts  it  in  the  stove,  goes  into  the 
kitchen. 

ELLA 

[Entering  breathless.]     Hannah!     Hannah! 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Coming  from  the  kitchen.}  Why,  Ella! 
What  is  it? 

ELLA 

Mattie's  gone  to  tell  the  marshal  about — about 
— she  thought  you  were  talking  to — somebody  in 
the  wood  room. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  know  what  she  thought. 

ELLA 

I  run  back  through  the  vacant  lot  to  tell  you, 
and  there  I  come  on  a  man  on  all  fours  terrible 
hurt. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Dazed,  passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes.]  You 
mean — 

ELLA 

Yes.  He  tried  to  climb  on  the  train  at  the 
crossin'.  An'  he  fell  off. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  189 


MRS.    ALLEN 


Oh —  [She  catches  a  shawl  from  a  nail  on  a 
door,  and  throws  it  over  her  head.]  We  can  go 
through  the  back  way. 

[ELLA  follows  MRS.  ALLEN  through  the 
kitchen  whose  door  is  heard  closing.  The 
room  is  empty  for  a  few  seconds;  then 
MATTIE'S  face  is  seen  at  the  window. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Entering.]     Hannah!      [She   crosses   to    the 

bedroom,  goes  in  and  reappears  immediately,  looks 

into  the  kitchen.]     No,  she  ain't  here.     He  ain't 

far.  [Runs  outside  again. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  and  ELLA  are  heard  helping 

PHILOS  into  the  kitchen.     MRS.  ALLEN 

enters  from  the  kitchen;  gathers  DAVID  up 

from  the  lounge,  crosses,  turns  the  chair 

facing  the  stove  and  puts  him  in  it,  then 

moves  the  lounge  to  the  centre  of  the  room 

nearer  the  stove,  goes  back  to  wood  room. 

MRS.  ALLEN  and  ELLA  support  PHILOS 

and  help  him  to  the  lounge. 

PHILOS 
Thank  you.  [Sinks  on  the  lounge. 


190  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

ELLA 

[To  MRS.  ALLEN.]     The  doctor'll  be  here  for 
Lizzie. 

,[MRS.  ALLEN  is  putting  a  quilt  over  PHILOS. 

PHILOS 

No,  I'm  past  help.     I've  seen  many  a  fellow 
die;  my  time  has  come. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Oh.  my  boy. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  and  ELLA  take  of  his  shoes. 

PHILOS 

Don't,    mother.     Pretty    rough    on    you,    but 
everybody'll  be  better  off  without  me. 

STONE 
[Bolting  in.]     Mattie  knew! 

PHILOS 

Miss  Black  would  know. 

STONE 

[Fumbling  in   his  pocket.}      I   will   read   the 
warrant  for  your  arrest,  Philos  Allen. 

PHILOS 
Don't  trouble;  I  know  about  it. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  191 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[To  STONE.]     Do  you  have  to  stay*? 

STONE 
Unless  I  take  him  to  jail. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

But  he's  dying. 

PHILOS 
Don't  say  it  so;  I'm  happy  about  it. 

STONE 
Got  no  proper  feelings  'tall. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[To  STONE.]     I  want  him  to  myself  here  at 
home. 

STONE 

I  swore  he  would  never  get  away  from  me 
again.     I  won't  chance  his  tricks. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

But  he's  dying. 

STONE 

He  belongs  in  jail. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Where  do  you  belong4?     [She  fries  to  control 


192  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

herself.  ]     Oh— I— Excuse  me.     But  now  it's  dif 
ferent. 

[Almost  overcome  by  her  agitation  she  paces 
the  floor  back  of  PHILOS. 

STONE 

I  know  my  duty. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  ought  not  to  have  asked. 

PHILOS 

Stay  as  long  as  you  like.     I  won't  keep  you 
long. 

STONE 

I  will  keep  you  as  long  as  you  live. 

PHILOS 
You're  hospitable,  Stone.     I  like  you. 

STONE 

Don't  want  your  liking.     Don't  want  to  hear 
about  it. 

PHILOS 
Not  an  enemy? 

STONE 

[Proudly.]     I   am    an    enemy    of   all   wrong 
doing. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  193 

PHILOS 

I've  forgiven  my  enemies. 

STONE 
Do  you  mean  I  am  to  learn  from  you"? 

PHILOS 
I've  learned  from  many. 

STONE 
Humph !  [Stfs  doggedly  at  the  table. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Enters.]     You  caught  him! 

PHILOS 

"I  was  in  prison  and  ye  visited  me." 

STONE 

[Starting   from    his   chair.]     No   blasphemy, 
d'  you  hear"? 

PHILOS 

I  was  only  giving  her  a  tip  about  the  password 
at  heaven's  gate. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

You're  paying  pretty  dear  for  what  you've 
done. 


194  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PHILOS 

Oh,  no.     I  never  paid  for  anything  in  my  life. 

ELLA 
You  aren't  comfortable  that  way. 

PHILOS 
[Kindly  to  her.]     Won't  matter  long. 

ELLA 

I'll  get  a  pillow.     Lizzie  don't  need  'em  both. 

[Exit  ELLA. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Her  manner  and  words  contradicting  each 
other. \  I  am  sorry  for  you. 

PHILOS 

I  return  the  compliment. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

You  pay  pretty  heavy  for  your  sin. 

PHILOS 

Oh,  no.  Marshal  Stone  here,  calls  on  me  to 
make  good  for  my  wrongdoing.  I  die  and  get 
out  of  it. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

We  know  sin  is  death;  but  a  life  is  a  good  deal 
to  pay  for  sin. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  195 

PHILOS 

You  are  wrong.  You  never  learned  the  bank 
ing  business  of  life.  The  value  of  a  life  can  be 
reckoned  by  the  debts  that  other  people  owe  to  it. 
We  all  owe  mother.  I  never  made  anything  of 
my  talents.  No  one  owes  anything  to  me.  I  owe 
everybody.  I  forfeit  a  worthless  thing  for  my 
wrongdoing.  Why !  A  life  is  worth  exactly 
what  you  make  it. 

STONE 

Humph ! 

MATTIE    BLACK 

What  nonsense ! 

[Re-enters  ELLA  with  pillow,  goes  to  PHILOS, 
puts  it  under  his  head. 

PHILOS 

One  name  for  philosophy. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  donno  whether  'tis  or  not.  I  told  you  were 
here,  because  I  thought  it  was  my  duty. 

PHILOS 
That's  all  right,  Miss  Black.     Don't  apologise. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  don't  apologise  for  doing  my  duty. 


196  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PHILOS 

When  we  want  to  do  a  thing,  we  call  it  duty. 
Duty  was  ever  my  guiding  star. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Flighty;  what  an  awful  thing  when  the  wicked 
come  down  to  punishment. 

ELLA 
{Rearranging  the  pillows. ~\     Is  that  better4? 

PHILOS 

Thanks. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Making  for  the  door.}      I'll  get  the  preacher. 

PHILOS 
Don't. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I  don't  know  what  you  mean. 

PHILOS 
Must  he  come?     Mother? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Controlling  herself.]  It  is  the  custom.  I 
suppose  he  feels  it  his  duty.  Oh,  yes,  let  him 
come. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  197 

STONE 

It's  his  duty  to  save  souls. 

ELLA 

Can't  I  wash  you  a  little? 

PHILOS 

Will  you? 

[Exit  ELLA  to  the  kitchen. 

STONE 

Aren't  you  afraid  to  die? 

PHILOS 
No  more  than  to  live. 

STONE 

Hardened  to  sin. 

[ELLA  returns  from  the  kitchen  with  a  basin, 

cloth,   and   towel   and   washes   PHILOS'S 

hands. 
[MRS.    ALLEN,   who    has   been   pacing   the 

floor,  sits  in  the  chair  before  PHILOS,  takes 

the  cloth  from  ELLA  and  washes  his  face. 

PHILOS 

And  all  my  wrongdoing  comes  on  you.     You 


198  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

have  paid  already  and  you  will  have  to  pay  still 
more. 

[Enter  MATTIE  BLACK  and  the  PREACHER. 

[MRS.  ALLEN  turns  and  sees  the  PREACHER. 

Repugnance   comes   over   her.     She  rises 

and  moves  that  when  the  PREACHER  comes 

to  PHILOS,  he  will  not  be  near  her. 

PREACHER 

[To  PHILOS.]     I  come  to  offer  you  the  comfort 
of  the  church.     I  hear  you  are  dying. 

PHILOS 
Is  that  the  most  comfort  you  can  offer4? 

[MRS.  ALLEN  still  has  some  faith  in  the  mys 
teries  of  the  church.  She  restrains  her  im 
pulse  to  defend  her  son.  She  withdraws 
to  give  the  PREACHER  a  chance  to  redeem 
the  soul  of  the  dying  man  although  she 
despises  the  agent.  She  goes  to  the  rock 
ing  chair  near  the  stove  and  picking 
up  DAVID,  sits  with  her  back  to  the  au 
dience.  She  rocks  more  or  less  violently 
according  to  her  agitation. 

PREACHER 

I  call  upon  you  to  repent. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  199 

PHILOS 

What  good  will  it  do? 

[ELLA  carries  away  the  basin  to  the  kitchen. 
MATTIE  BLACK  moves  to  a  seat. 

PREACHER 

Don't  you  want  to  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven? 

PHILOS 
You  offer  to  get  me  into  heaven? 

PREACHER 

Repent  and  be  saved. 

PHILOS 
Do  you  teach  that? 

PREACHER 

I  teach  the  truth.  [Pause.]  You  are  nearing 
the  river;  these  are  nearly  your  last  moments  on 
earth.  Your  New  Year's  dawn  will  be  in  an 
other  world.  Which  shall  it  be:  the  world  of 
continual  misery,  the  world  of  perpetual  torture, 
the  world  of  endless  fire,  Hell ;  or  shall  it  be  the 
world  of  good,  the  world  of  everlasting  joy,  the 
world  where  never  ending  pseans  are  sung,  the 
world — heaven? 


200  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PHILOS 

All  I  have  to  do  is  to  repent? 

PREACHER 

That  is  all.     Repent  and  come  nearer  to  God. 

PHILOS 
Is  that  all ! 

[Silence. 

PREACHER 

[Solemnly.]  Over  on  the  other  shore  of  the 
river  you  are  to  cross  are  some  who  are  dear  to 
you. 

PHILOS 

You  are  an  advocate  of  heaven? 

PREACHER 

Well— 

[MATTIE  and  STONE  have  not  caught  the 
scorn  in  the  epithet.  STONE  rubs  his 
hands  anticipatingly.  MATTIE  nods  her 
approval. 

PHILOS 

A  lawyer  in  the  Court  of  the  Lord. 

PREACHER 

[Visibly  swelling  at  a  supposed  compliment.} 
The  name  is  altogether  appropriate. 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  201 

PHILOS 

Do  you  know  what  I  call  your  method  of  sal 
vation*? 

PREACHER 

The  name  is  unimportant  when  a  soul  is  re 
deemed. 

PHILOS 

[More  vigorously  and  in  unmistakable  tones.} 
I  call  it  spiritual  bankruptcy. 

STONE 

[To  PHILOS.]     No  blasphemy,  d'  you  hear? 

PREACHER 

He  isn't  rational. 

PHILOS 

/ 

No,  I'm  telling  the  truth. 

STONE 

[To  the  PREACHER.]  He  ain't  so  delirious  as 
you  think.  [Standing  over  PHILOS.]  You  stop 
making  light  of  religious  things. 

[Retreats  to  his  chair  at  the  table. 

PHILOS 

I  am  the  only  one  that  is  not  making  religion 
ridiculous.  I  broke  my  mother's  heart.  I  de- 


202  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

serted  my  wife.  I  sinned  every  sin — pretty  near, 
and  the  talents  that  were  born  in  me  I  made  over 
into  bad.  Now  I'm  dying. 

PREACHER 

Your  sin  will  meet  its  punishment,  if  you  do 
not  repent. 

PHILOS 

[His  breath  has  given  out  for  a  moment  and  his 
eyes  close,  but  he  rallies  his  strength  and  struggles 
on.}  Now  you  come  to  me  and  offer  to  have  my 
sins  struck  off  the  books — to  let  me  off  without 
punishment.  Would  repentance  undo  my  waste 
and  my  wrongdoing?  Would  it  bring  back  the 
girl  I  sent  crazy  to  death*?  Would  it  take  one 
scar  off  my  mother's  heart  for  the  sorrow  I  brought 
on  her,  would  it  make  my  little  boy's  life  any 
easier?  Why!  If  there  is  a  lake  that  burneth,  I 
belong  there.  What  you  offer  is  nothing  but 
sneaking  me  of  my  spiritual  debts — nothing  but 
spiritual  bankruptcy.  I've  got  to  pay.  And  I 
will  pay.  [Sinks  back. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Who  has  risen  with  DAVID  in  her  arms  crosses 
to  the  chair  before  the  lounge.}  Do  you  mean 
that? 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  203 

PHILOS 

[Weakly.]  I  knew  you'd  understand.  I 
don't  want  to  get  to  heaven  on  a  crooked  repen 
tance.  I  want  to  pay  my  debts;  I  want  to  go  to 
hell. 

[The  PREACHER  moves  backward  a  step  or 
two.  PHILOS  sinks  back  and  lies  motion 
less  with  his  eyes  closed. 

STONE 

Brazen  it  out. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

{Sinking  to  the  chair  and  letting  DAVID  slide 
to  his  feet  between  them.}  Oh,  my  honest  boy! 

PREACHER 

Are  you  going  to  abet  this  prodigal  in  his  blas 
phemy  *? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Rising.]      If  it  be  blasphemy,  I  am. 

PREACHER 

One  soul  already  to-night  missed  regeneration, 
because  your  mind  was  on  things  temporal;  now 
you  do  this.  You  are  as  sinful  as  he.  You  will 
burn  with  him  in  hell. 


204  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Do  you  never  look  beyond  a  man's  words  to 
his  meaning4?  If  he  had  taken  your  bribe  of 
heaven,  he  would  have  died  a  coward.  His  re 
fusal  is  the  repentance  of  a  strong  man.  I  glory 
in  such  a  death. 

PREACHER 

The  fires  of  hell  will  burn  away  your  sinful 
thought. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Your  efforts  to-night  have  made  redemption, 
heaven,  and  religion  very  cheap  indeed.  You 
tried  to  bully  Lizzie,  a  poor  thing  that  was  too 
far  gone  to  know  what  you  were  talking  about, 
and  now  you  attempt  to  terrorise  a  dying  man  with 
the  fear  of  hell  fire  and  bribe  him  with  heaven. 
Do  dying  converts  make  the  world  any  better  to 
live  in?  Why  don't  you  try  to  improve  the  liv 
ing,  the  strong,  who  have  life  before  them? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

You  talk  shameful. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Sinking  down.}  Oh.  How  can  I  dispute 
now? 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  205 

PREACHER 

[  With  a  downward  fling  of  his  hand  strides  off 
as  if  giving  the  final  word.}  You  are  overcome 
in  your  blasphemy  against  the  church  by  the  pres 
ence  of  that  innocent  child. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

We  ought  to  have  let  Brother  Stone  take  Lizzie 
and  the  boy  to  the  lock-up  as  he  wanted  to;  then 
she  might  have  been  redeemed. 

STONE 

[Growling.]  The  town  will  have  to  bury  her 
anyhow. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Rising  and  facing  them.]     It  shall  not. 

STONE 

How  then? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  will  do  it. 

PREACHER 

Let  the  town  do  it. 

STONE 

Why  not? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

I'd  like  to  know! 


206  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

She  came  to  me  at  the  time  of  year  when  every 
body  ought  to  be  happy.  Oh,  she  was  the  stranger 
within  my  gate. 

PREACHER 

You  aren't  in  a  sound  state  of  mind. 

STONE 
You're  crazy,  Hannah  Allen. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Perhaps.  But  I  am  thinking  of  poor  little 
David.  He  can't  grow  up  here  to  find  out  the 
town  buried  his  mother. 

PREACHER 

What  hurt  will  it  do*?  We've  planned  to  give 
him  to  some  Christian  family. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  will  bury  her. 

STONE 

[  With  slow  sarcasm.']  An'  who's  going  to  bury 
you? 

[MATTIE  shows  her  appreciation  of  his  hu 
mour  with  a  harsh  laugh, 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  207 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Quick  to  parry  his  thrust  with  sweetness  and 
trust  in  her  reply.]  No  one  for  a  long  time  yet. 
I  am  going  to  live,  because  work  has  been  put  into 
my  hands  to  do.  Part  of  Lizzie  will  live. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Warning  a  friend  of  a  fault, ,]  Don't  blas 
pheme  again,  Hannah. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Quietly.]     Part  of  Lizzie  will  live. 

PREACHER 

Our  faith  tells  us  that. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Part  of  her  will  live.  [Silence.  Then  she 
points  to  DAVID.]  There.  There  is  part  of  her 
that  will  not  die.  Can't  you  understand4? 

STONE 
What  are  you  talking  about"? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  am  talking  about  David. 

STONE 
What  about  David? 


208  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  will  raise  him. 

PREACHER 

You  will  raise  him? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

[Impatiently.]  Hannah  Allen!  Raise  a  boy 
at  your  age. 

PREACHER 

No  woman  alone  can  raise  a  boy. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Losing  her  temper  for  a  moment.]  I'll  try. 
And  if  I  spoil  him, — I've  seen  many  a  man-raised 
boy  that  didn't  turn  out  right. 

STONE 
He  needs  a  man  over  him. 

PREACHER 

The  boy  must  be  raised  in  a  Christian  family. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

One  of  you  .  .  .  *? 

PREACHER 

Let  me  find  some  Christian  family.  .  .  . 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  209 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Sinking  to  her  knees ,  and  taking  DAVID  in  her 
arms  wildly.  Her  back  is  toward  PHI  LOS.]  No. 
No,  David.  I  won't  let  a  Christian  family  have 
you. 

PREACHER 

Hopeless.  [Moving  back  to  STONE.]  We'll 
have  to  take  legal  steps  to  put  the  child  under 
proper  custodial  care. 

STONE 
Crazy,  Hannah  Allen.     You're  crazy. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Christ  would  understand. 

[After  a  silence -,  PHI  LOS  puts  out  his  hand 
and  touches  his  mother's  shoulder.  She 
turns  to  him  so  that  she>  DAVID  and  PHILOS 
form  a  group. 

PHILOS 
Do  you  want  the  boy,  mother*? 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  want  some  one  to  work  for — to  live  for. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

She  can't  keep  him.  If  he  don't  belong  to  any 
body,  he's  the  property  of  the  state. 


210  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

PHILOS 

Come  here,  David. 

[DAVID  does  not  move. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Won't  you  go  to  the  man? 

PHILOS 

Won't  you  come  to  me? 

[DAVID  is  unmoved. 

PREACHER 

God  gives  children  an  instinct  to  tell  good  peo 
ple.  [He  comes  forward  and  squats.]  Come 
here,  Davie,  Davie. 

[DAVID  draws  back  a  step  to  PHILOS'S  arm. 

PHILOS 
You  young  rascal. 

STONE 
Mark  my  word.     That  boy  will  go  to  the  devil. 

PHILOS 

I  don't  deny  it.     He  has  come  to  me  already. 

STONE 

Humph ! 

[PHILOS  lying  with  his  eyes  closed  gathers 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  211 

strength  to  speak.     MRS.  ALLEN  watches 

him. 
[The  window  at  the  right  is  thrown  up. 

[A  voice  befuddled  with  drink.}     A  tune  for 
New  Year's. 

[A  dance  played  on  a  violin  begins— the 
playing  not  of  high  quality. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Who's  that4? 

STONE 

The  drunk  at  his  fiddle.     I'll  stop  him. 

[Starts  down  to  the  window.  DAVID  with  a 
transfigured  look  moves  away  from  the 
lounge  and  is  slowly  drawn  by  the  music. 
PHILOS  rouses  and  follows  him  with  his 
eyes.  MRS.  ALLEN  rises  slowly  and  spell 
bound  watches  David,  the  others  gape  at 
him.  PHILOS  holds  up  his  hand  in  protest 
to  STONE.  STONE  stops.  DAVID  moves 
almost  to  the  window. 


STONE 


[Shouting.}     Stop  it,  stop  it. 

[The  dance  ends  suddenly  in  the  middle  of  a 
phrase.     STONE     angrily     flings     DAVID 


212  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

around  and  slams  down  the  window;  MRS. 
ALLEN  rushes  forward  and  snatches  up 
DAVID. 

PHILOS 
You  couldn't  let  me  have  my  last  dance. 

PREACHER 

The  fiddles  play  all  the  way  to  hell. 

PHILOS 
{Hopefully.}     Is  the  way  long? 

PREACHER 

It  is  the  downward  path  and  broad. 

ELLA 

I  believe  anything  broad  would  seem  dangerous 
to  you. 

PHILOS 
Are  those  tears,  little  chicken?     They  are. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

{Getting  him  in  her  arms.}  Listen,  David.  I 
have  a  violin  that  used  to  belong  to  this  man's 
papa.  And  I  am  going  to  let  you  make  music  on 
it.  Won't  that  be  nice? 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  213 

PHILOS 

I  hope  you  will  never  be  sorry  for  it. 

STONE 

Hannah  Allen,  are  you  going  to  give  that  boy 
lessons  on  the  fiddle^ 

MRS.    ALLEN 

I  am. 

PREACHER 

We,  people  of  the  church,  cannot  permit  you  to 
start  that  boy  to  hell. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

We  will  see  the  law  puts  him  under  proper  care. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

You  won't  take  David  away  from  me ! 

PREACHER 

We  feel  responsible  for  his  soul. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

He  don't  belong  to  anybody;  so  the  state  will 
look  to  it  that  he's  took  proper  care  of. 

STONE 

You  can't  fly  in  the  face  of  the  law  the  way  you 


214  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

fly  in   the   face  of   the   church.     The   law   will 
humble  you. 

PHILOS 
You  are  a  pretty  lot  to  call  Christians. 

STONE 

Don't  you  begin  to  blaspheme  again! 

PHILOS 
I  want  you  to  let  my  mother  alone. 

STONE 

^  We  know  what  we  can  do;  we  won't  shrink  our 
Christian  duty  for  your  commanding. 

PHILOS 
You  can't  be  generous — any  of  you? 

PREACHER 

Duty  determines  our  course.     We  are  going 
to  give  this  boy  to  a  Christian  family. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

You  can't  argue  us  out  of  it. 

PHILOS 

I  won't  try.     Mother,  you  may  keep  David. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

What? 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  215 

PHILOS 

[Having  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  turns  his 
head  slightly  toward  the  door.}  Ask  Lizzie. 
[Raising  his  voice.}  Lizzie!  Lizzie! 

[A  silence. 
[LizziE,  in  delirium,  enters. 

LIZZIE 

[Passes  her  hand  over  her  eyes.}  I — I  dreamt 
I  heard  him. 

PHILOS 
You  did,  Lizzie. 

LIZZIE 
I  heard  him.     I  heard  him. 

PHILOS 
Lizzie. 

LIZZIE 

[Discovers  him  and  rushes  to  him.}     My  man ! 
[She   sinks   down;   PHILOS   puts    one   arm 
around  her  and  pushes  DAVID  into  his 
mother's  keeping. 

PHILOS 

Mother,  Lizzie  and  I  want  you  to  keep  David. 


216  WISCONSIN  PLAYS 

MATTIE    BLACK 

Well,  I  never. 

PHILOS 

I  wanted  to  give  the  boy  a  chance ;  I  wanted  his 
past  to  go  no  farther  back  than  Lizzie.  But  I  am 
his  father. 

STONE 

His  father? 

MATTIE    BLACK 

You? 

PREACHER 

That  accounts  for  much. 

PHILOS 

[Bitterly  to  the  Christians.}  Yes.  You  will 
make  the  little  fellow  live  me  down.  [To  DAVID 
— his  voice  filled  with  sorrow  at  the  injustice.} 
Oh,  my  boy,  they  will  make  you  pay. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[Smiling  through  her  tears  at  DAVID.]  Oh, 
David,  you  are  mine,  mine. 

PHILOS 

And,  boy,  don't  make  a  mess  of  your  life.  In 
this  world  we  have  to  pay  our  debts.  If  we  don't, 


WE  LIVE  AGAIN  217 

somebody  else  must  do  it.     Don't  leave  debts  be 
hind  you  like  me. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

Why,  I  have  something  to  live  for! 

PHILOS 

Oh,  my  boy,  make  yourself  all  that  I  might 
have  been  and  lots  more.  [Sinks  back. 

PREACHER 

A  wasted  life. 

PHILOS 

No,  not  a  wasted  life.     What  might  have  been 
good  in  us  will  live  and  have  a  chance  in  the  boy. 

MRS.   ALLEN 

Oh,  he  will  more  than  make  up. 

MATTIE    BLACK 

We  got  that  to  see  yet. 

MRS.    ALLEN 

[All  her  faith^  hope,  and  will  in  her  voice.] 
You  will  see. 

STONE 
[Sarcasm.}     We  will. 

CURTAIN 


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